Waking to Sunset
by S.H.I.E.L.D Super Nanny
Summary: Nara Shikako shouldn't have been born into Naruto (or maybe she should have been, who knows?) and she almost certainly shouldn't have been born into the Marvel Universe. But she was, and come what may, she is going to do her damn best to make sure that both her and Remy survive this crazy world. (Borrowed SI-OC fic, formerly the Great Marvel Project)
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 **By Ally Haert**

"I don't like this Jean, something's wrong," Clemente murmured for the third time. His dark eyes made another circuit of the room and he shifted nervously on the balls of his feet. "We should have-"

"Ta gueule," Jean-Luc didn't even spare a glance over his shoulder, utterly focused on picking the lock in his hands.

His fingers twitched gracefully through delicate taps and soft nudges, guiding the tumblers into place. It was taking him much longer than it should have. _The old man switched out the lock,_ Jean-Luc thought with a grimace.

Damn this job to hell, it had been nothing but bad luck from the start. Flat tires, rotating guards, paranoid millionaires. The lock changing on the day of the heist, though, that was _worse_ than mere luck. Much worse. If the lock had been replaced it could only mean one thing – someone knew they were coming.

Jean-Luc pursed his lips and ignored the drop of sweat that dripped a slow path down his brow.

"-should have left once we noticed the guards were swapped out," Clemente finished darkly. "Everything about this job has been wrong from the start. Every fucking part of it. What the _hell_ is taking so long?"

A shadow fell across the face of the lock as Clemente leaned down for a better look. Jean-Luc was about to turn around and snap at him to get back on lookout when a deafening bang cut him short.

Broken glass exploded out from the window above their heads, showering down in a spray of glittering debris. Jean-Luc instantly dropped to the floor, hands coming up to cover his head as he rolled until his back faced the wall. He cringed, waiting for the spray of bullets to rain down...but the room was silent.

He cautiously raised his head and what he saw made his stomach drop out in terror.

"Clemente!" His brother lay motionless on the floor where he had been standing moments earlier. "Clemente! _Clemente!"_

" _Unh_ ," Clemente rolled over with a groan, finally a sign of life. Jean-Luc's relief was short lived when blood started pouring out of the hole in Clemente's chest.

" _No, no, no_ ," Jean-Luc scrambled over and desperately tried to stem the flow with trembling hands, but it was futile. Blood gushed between his fingers in warm spurts to pool on the floor between them. Clemente's eyes were so wide they had a full ring of white round the rim and the look he sent Jean-Luc was brimming with terror.

"Jean."

"Don't talk! We've got to- to-"

" _Jean._ "

"Help! Someone help us!"

"The red...horse..."

"HELP!" Jean-Luc roared at the sound of swiftly approaching people. When the door handle turned and a large woman in uniform burst through, Jean-Luc began crying in earnest. "Help us, please!"

"What are you– How did you get in here?!"

"He's been shot, _please,_ " he begged.

Her eyes widened in shock as the situation sank in. Without another question she turned and ran back out the door, screaming for help. A weak hand wrapped around his wrist and Jean-Luc looked back down into his brother's pale face.

"It's in...the red...horse..."

"Clemente enough! Help is coming," he was sobbing now and he couldn't stop.

"Tell her...tell her..."

The hand around his wrist went limp and dropped into the puddle of blood with a sickening _splash._

"Clemente? Clemente! _Clemente!"_

When help returned they found him curled around his brother's body, his wretched sobs muffled in the dead man's shoulder.

No one moved them, no one spoke and in that quiet moment Jean-Luc learned a simple truth.

 _One of the hardest parts about Death is how suddenly it comes._

~-/-~

Jean-Luc stood next to his father in a black suit and watched as the casket was interred in the family mausoleum. When the door was sealed with a final thud, his father reached over and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

People filtered away and left the two men to their grief.

With a small sound and a final pat on the back, even his father left.

Jean-Luc stared at the crypt with unfocused eyes and wondered if it would always feel like this.

Alone _._

~-/-~

He didn't think of Clemente's last words until almost a full year later.

Times had not been kind to the Thieves, with the loss of one of the Patriarch's sons and the fact that the rival clans had been discontent.

Marcel LeBeau, leader of the Thieves and father to Jean-Luc and the late Clemente, had been a fearsome crime lord in his youth. He had carried New Orleans through the Great Depression, through prohibition and through three wars. His name alone had driven away all thought of competition.

New Orleans was changing, growing bigger by the day. Things could get bad anywhere in the world but here in this city, life seemed to prosper under Marcel's watchful eye. But these weren't the days of Marcel's youth and, eventually, even _his_ reputation couldn't dampen the temptation of The Big Easy.

Nobody was really sure exactly when the Assassins came, but by the start of the War in 'Nam it was clear they were in New Orleans to stay.

Jean-Luc seethed with bitter rage. Why hadn't his father done anything to repel the Assassins before now? If he had just taken the threat more seriously they wouldn't be locked in this damned turf war.

He'd told his father in so many words and the shouting match that resulted had been truly magnificent. Jean-Luc stormed down the hall when he couldn't stand it any longer, cursing as he went.

He slammed one final door and was shocked to find himself standing in Clemente's room.

"Putain," he froze. It was jarring to be standing here, after so much time had passed. A wave of grief gripped his chest, fresh and painful.

It looked exactly the same, as if Clemente just nipped out for a bite to eat and could stroll back through the door at any moment. He had done that a lot more near the end – late nights out on the town without any of the family.

Jean-Luc meandered forward, eyes roaming hungrily around the room. He carefully lowered himself onto the bed and sighed. A flash of colour on the bedside table caught his eye. He looked over and what he saw there made him freeze.

A small figurine. A small, red figurine.

 _A red horse._

He lifted it with numb fingers as Clemente's last words ran through his mind. He turned it over a few times before the light caught on the faintest of seams around the horse's middle. Jean-Luc fiddled with it for a moment, twisting it gently until the horse slipped open with a soft _pop._

Inside was a yellowed piece of paper with an address on it.

~-/-~

Clemente had a wife.

He had a wife in a sweet little cottage.

Jean-Luc watched her from the shade of a neighbour's porch and tried not to vomit.

She was a delicate looking thing with perfect blonde curls and sad eyes. He waited until she left her home.

He broke in.

~-/-~

Her name was Marie.

He ran his hands over her blouses and nearly cried when he found a pair of Clemente's old boots still resting in her closet.

All over her house his brother's things remained.

She hadn't put them away.

Jean-Luc opened a final door and the blood froze in his veins. _A nursery._

He fled.

~-/-~

"Smile, Jean, you look fit to murder someone," Marcel murmured out of the corner of his mouth. He raised the champagne glass to his lips and caught the eye of two young ladies across the way.

He grinned charmingly at them and they tittered and waved coyly back.

"I _will_ murder someone if he keeps us waiting any longer," Jean-Luc snarled. "What the hell is he playing at?"

"Calm yourself, boy," Marcel frowned when the young ladies picked up on Jean-Luc's mood and shuffled nervously away. "It's all posturing. Walk into this one angry and you'll be robbed blind. Remember rule ten: 'Always stay calm on a'-"

" _Why are we even here?"_ Jean-Luc rounded on his father, unable to contain it any longer. "Why the _fuck_ did you even agree to this meeting? Those conards _killed_ Clemente! We should– "

"Enough!" Marcel cut him off with a growl. "Do. Not. Cause. A. _Scene."_

Jean-Luc bit his cheek, vibrating with suppressed rage. People were shooting the two curious glances. Marcel let out a soft puff of breath and smiled at the onlookers before lowering his voice even further.

"Boudreaux _invited_ us here after _months_ of negotiating. This Krewe Ball is neutral ground and I will not see you ruin our first real chance at a treaty with the Assassins because of your _childish vendetta._ Now," Marcel turned cold eyes on Jean-Luc and raised his voice just enough for others around them to hear. "Go find a nice girl and enjoy the open bar."

Marcel strolled away, leaving a stunned Jean-Luc behind.

Childish vendetta? _Childish vendetta?!_

Jean-Luc balled his fists in rage and he got one step toward his father's retreating back before a hand reached out to grab him.

"Fuck off!" Jean-Luc shook the hand off and whirled around angrily, ready for a fight. He jerked to a stop awkwardly when he met the empty gaze of a blind girl.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Uh," Jean-Luc looked over his shoulder but he couldn't see his father anywhere. The ballroom was growing more crowded by the hour, vibrant dresses and gay masks adorning each new person that arrived. He cursed in frustration and turned back to the girl with a frown. "Look, petite, I don't have –"

"He won't listen. Not right now, at least," her voice was deep and husky. Her milky eyes gazed off somewhere over Jean-Luc's shoulder and he shook off the unsettling notion that she was looking towards Marcel.

"Cheré, you don't know me and you sure as _hell_ don't know what-"

"Did you find the red horse yet?"

Jean-Luc could feel his heart stop.

The orchestra swelled and around the two, couples began pairing off to dance.

Jean-Luc stood frozen in place, unable to breath.

"Wh...what?"

"Ah, so that's already happened," she nodded to herself, face set in a grim expression. "Well, it's not _too_ late yet. It'll just be a bit more difficult for you now."

"What did you say?" Jean-Luc could feel his heart kick into a racing gallop. His hands jerked out to grip her by the shoulders and blood started pounding in his ears.

He hadn't told anyone about the red horse figurine. _No one._

"There isn't much time, LeBeau, so pay attention. You will be the new Father of the Thieves within the week and unless you find the child, you and your entire family are going to be wiped out in the coming war."

"Who told you about the horse? _"_

"The child will lead the Thieves into victory. You _need_ that child or all will be lost. The weapon, the school, the army...it will all come after. But _none_ of it will come without the child."

"The child? What the hell are you talking about? Who the fuck are you?" Jean-Luc shook her shoulders in growing rage.

"The child has the Eyes of the Devil and will walk the middle path. If you want to find the child, look for the eyes. You'll know it when you see it."

"You're insane," he shoved her away in bitter disgust. "Fuck off."

"This isn't about your nephew."

Jean-Luc lunged for her throat and lifted. She grabbed at his wrists with a startled cry and scrambled for purchase against the floor with the tips of her toes. Jean-Luc marched her backwards through a startled crowd, completely uncaring of the scene he was causing.

He reached the back wall and threw her at it, so that she would have lost her balance and fell. His hands whipped out to grab her roughly by the upper arms and he held her up. His face was inches from hers and when he finally spoke his voice dripped with death.

"You have ten seconds to convince me not to _kill you._ "

"I'm trying to help you!" her voice rose shrilly. Jean-Luc snarled.

"How do you know about Etienne? Are you with the Assassins? Is this some stupid fucking way of threatening me?" he could feel his anger grow by the second. This was _just_ like the Assassins, those honourless vermin. " _Who told you about my nephew?"_

"We don't have time for this, please! You need to listen to me LeBeau! Our lives are in danger and it all comes back to this point. You _must_ find the child!"

"'Our' lives? Who the fuck are you with, lady?"

"I can't," her voice wobbled a bit and she started to look genuinely scared for the first time since they had started talking. "That's not my story to tell. Not yet. Look, _please,_ I don't want to hurt anyone. I'm trying to _help_ you."

Jean-Luc almost turned at the sound of Marcel calling his name. He watched the woman as tears gathered in her eyes and her breathing started to speed up. Begrudgingly he leaned back a bit and she seemed to let out a shaky breath of relief.

"Talk," he ordered.

"You must find the child with the Eyes of the Devil and you must raise it as your own. Do this, and the Thieves will survive. Fail to do this, and we _all_ will die. And that's not a threat – that's a promise."

Jean-Luc couldn't get a read on her and it was starting to make him nervous.

"Petite...I think you've had too much to drink," his voice was shaky and low. He ignored his Father's call once more, though Marcel's voice had drawn a good deal closer.

"I know you will need proof and I'm sorry, so sorry, but it's only going to cause you pain," she reached out to touch his chest with a soft brush of her fingertips. "Tonight you will watch as the snake eats the fox. In that hour you'll understand another truth about death."

Marcel's voice was just behind them now. Jean-Luc couldn't begin to process what this crazy girl was saying, but something in her garbled message must have been getting through because a pit of dread was starting to settle deep in his chest.

"And what truth would that be?"

"That one of the hardest things about Death is how preventable it can be," her face fell and the tears began slow tracks down her cheeks.

A large hand fell on Jean-Luc's shoulder, gripping him tightly.

"Pardon us, cheré, but I must take your gentleman away! We have business to attend to I'm afraid. Jean, say your farewells for the evening."

Jean-Luc let his hands drop and took a trembling step away from the girl. The moment she was released she fled with a whimper.

Marcel watched her go with a frown.

"Jean?"

"Yes, father?" Jean-Luc stared at the spot where the girl had disappeared into the crowd and tried to ignore how the hand on his shoulder felt heavy and rough.

"I take it back. _Don't_ bother any more ladies tonight."

~-/-~

Raymond Boudreaux was a proper Southern gentleman.

He wore long suits in fine imported silks and talked with a charming Georgian drawl. His moustache was curled into a tidy point and the blonde hair upon his head was always carefully combed into place. Despite the fact that his stride was perfect, he walked everywhere with a dark, wooden a cane. Atop the cane was a golden snake head with diamonds for eyes. From his pocket hung a watch on a long, golden chain.

He didn't look like the reigning father of the world's deadliest criminal gang. That was entirely the point.

Jean-Luc would have refused these peace talks point blank. Marcel was going soft.

The Thieves had been Lords of New Orleans long before Raymond _fucking_ Boudreaux had ever turned a stray thought to the city and poisoned its ranks with his Assassins.

Jean-Luc refused to shake the man's hand and ignored the warning look Marcel shot him.

They sat around a tea table on a private balcony somewhere far away from the boisterous crowds. Frogs croaked loudly in the gardens down below and Jean-Luc poured every ounce of his self-control into not launching across the table to beat the man with his bare hands.

"You're looking well, Marcel."

"Not at all, Ray, not at all. It's just this wonderful streak of sunshine we've been having..."

Jean-Luc turned away from the conversation in disgust.

In his mind he pictured two milky eyes and the dire warning of the girl who owned them.

Negotiations moved swiftly. After a certain point, maps were brought and territories were plotted out. There were rules and articles that were quibbled over, yet both Patriarchs remained pointedly silent on their terms.

Jean-Luc watched lightning bugs blinking lazily across the fields below and he suddenly couldn't stand it. It was such bullshit, all of it.

This empty building filled with meaningless, simpering crowds dressed in gaudy costumes. These two men sipping tea at a table and pretending to be friends.

Everything was a lie. Everything was shallow.

He stood up in disgust, unable to bear it a moment longer.

"Going somewhere, Mr LeBeau?" Raymond looked politely interested and Jean-Luc wanted to reach over the table and smack him.

"Ah, my son has been in the drink I'm afraid. But no worries, I will see him safely home. Enjoy the rest of the ball, Raymond," Marcel stood as well, sketching a polite bow towards the other man.

Jean-Luc was already threading his way back through the ballroom floor when his father caught up to him. Without a word, Marcel grabbed him solidly by the upper arm and steered him towards the grand staircase.

They strode down the marble steps in silence and before they had even properly reached the curb, a long, sleek car pulled round in front of them. The driver hopped out and helped them in.

The moment the doors shut Marcel turned on Jean-Luc with a growl, "Just what the _hell_ was that, Jean? I expect more than that from you. Fuck!" He blew the last word out explosively and seemed to collapse back against his seat, his anger spent before it really started.

That niggling voice in the back of Jean-Luc's head started up. He had missed something.

"You're damned lucky we were done with our business, boy, because I've had about as much of your rebellion as I can take," Marcel rubbed his face tiredly. "I'm getting too old for this."

He'd _missed_ something. What had he missed?

"Jean, you can't behave like this. I won't always be around to handle the politics for you, and Raymond Boudreaux isn't just one, single man. He is a part of something greater, something that isn't going to go away. Either the Thieves learn to adapt or –"

"The price," Jean-Luc breathed out softly.

"–The what?"

"You never set a price," now that he'd said it out loud, Jean-Luc grew more confident. The two men in charge of the biggest criminal families the South had ever seen had just spent hours arguing over maps and rules and taxes and laws. _Neither one of them had ever mentioned conditions._ Jean-Luc turned to his father with a hard look in his eyes. "This peace treaty...what are you gaining from it?"

Marcel didn't look surprised. He was far too good for that.

But to someone who knew him well, the small beat of silence before he answered was very telling.

"Price? What are you on about, Jean? You weren't really paying attention tonight, were you?"

"You'd never agree to this unless you were gaining something from it. So what was your price?"

Something dark flashed through Marcel's eyes. Something like guilt.

Suddenly it was like Jean-Luc was thrown backwards through the night's events, watching them play through his mind like a movie reel in reverse.

" _What was your price?"_

 _The guilt in his father's eyes._

" _I won't always be around."_

" _I'm getting too old for this."_

 _The snake atop Raymond's cane._

 _The way they used each other's first names._

 _A crying girl trapped against the wall._

" _Tonight you'll watch the snake eat the fox."_

" _Tonight you'll understand another truth about Death."_

 _Another truth about Death._

"Father," Jean-Luc's voice shook. He didn't want to know. He _had_ to know. "Father..."

"Jean, you've had a long night. Let's finish this later, no?" Marcel looked positively frightened now and he turned to knock on the black divider that separated the passengers from the driver. Jean-Luc grabbed his arm and pinned it to the seat.

"Jean!"

"What," Jean-Luc's voice was soft and he couldn't stop the tears from gathering in the corners of his eyes, "was your price?"

Marcel's face fell and his mouth shut with a soft, broken noise.

And Jean-Luc knew.

 _Someone had sabotaged Clemente and Jean-Luc's final job. Someone who knew._

"No," Jean-Luc whispered.

"Jean, please, it's not what you're thinking-"

"No."

"Jean-"

"NO!" Jean-Luc lunged with a roar. Tears streamed down his face as his hands closed around his father's neck. "Murderer! You killed him!"

Marcel tugged at Jean-Luc's wrists, eyes bulging as his face flushed an alarming shade of purple.

"You took us in, both of us!" Jean-Luc was weeping now, fingers turning white where they crushed the man's windpipe. "You raised us! You raised _him!_ He was my _brother!"_

Marcel was beating at his forearms in desperation, body jerking and bucking underneath him. Jean-Luc waited until the man started to weaken before he released his grip and collapsed onto his father, sobbing brokenly into his chest.

"You killed him, you killed him, oh god," Jean-Luc sobbed brokenly, clinging to his Father's chest like a child.

Marcel gasped, great heaving breaths as his whole body shook. Several minutes passed before he slowly lifted his hands to stroke his son's hair.

"I know, I know. Shh, I'm here, it's alright. I'm here," Marcel held his boy and knew it was the end.

~-/-~

Marcel LeBeau never lived to the age of seventy.

They say he passed peacefully in his sleep, the night after the best Mardi Gras in the history of New Orleans.

Jean-Luc stood in front of the mausoleum once again.

Alone.

~-/-~

If you asked Jean-Luc to tell you about Death, he would tell you this:

 _The hardest part about Death is the mess it causes for those left behind._

~-/-~

If you asked Ginger LeDoux about death, she would probably be too high to understand.

Life hadn't been kind to Ginger.

She lived from one bump to the next, always searching for her next high. When she was young and beautiful it had been easy to score her drugs.

Sex for a hit.

It was a simple trade, and one that Ginger made many times.

After the pregnancy it became harder. The highs never lasted and the drugs stopped working. She spent many cold nights wandering the gutters, clutching her stomach and vomiting. Surely she would die from it.

The shakes from the withdrawal made it harder and harder. Her hair started falling out and her belly swelled. People stopped offering. They started steering around her, avoiding her path on the sidewalk.

For a while there at the end of the pregnancy, Ginger cleaned up and thought about being a mother.

She didn't know the first thing about kids, but maybe...maybe...

And then they came. Two little babies with hideous, demon eyes.

She'd done this. She'd done this to her babies.

Ginger didn't know a lot about death, but she knew plenty about heroin.

~-/-~

Cameron stumbled into the hotel room behind the woman, laughing and slapping at her naked backside. He'd met her down at Rizzo's jazz place, a little hole in the wall joint.

His contact never showed and he was about to give up the night as a loss and head back to the guild. But as he stood to leave, who should wander up to buy him a drink but little miss redhead here?

Sure, she looked a little on the 'used up' side of things, but she was turning out to be one hot lay.

Cameron helped her wrestle her clothes off and they stumbled toward the hotel bed.

Things were about to progress when a soft sound made Cameron tense. His head shot up and he scanned the room.

"Who-"

"It's just the brats, baby. Come on, give me some sugar," Ginger rubbed up against him with a lewd purr, but Cameron wasn't listening.

Sitting on the other side of the room in a worn crib were two babies.

Two babies with pure black eyes.

"What the fuck?!" Cameron shot up off the woman, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight.

One of the babies was sucking on its thumb and blinking dumbly around the room.

The other was _watching_ him. Black, shining eyes with dark green irises followed his every move.

"Holy shit! What the hell is wrong with those kids?"

Things didn't go too well for Ginger _or_ Cameron after that.

~-/-~

"- And you should have seen it, I mean, I've seen some shit ya know? But this was freaky as hell."

Jean-Luc ran through the numbers in the ledger one more time, trying to find the discrepancy. He was absolutely awful at keeping the books but he couldn't afford to retain an accountant anymore.

The money his father had left behind was dwindling and if something didn't change real soon, the Thieves might not be able to keep their territories secure this winter.

"Whatever, Cam, you stick your dick in crazy all the time. What have I _told_ you about sticking your dick in crazy?"

"It wasn't her, you moron! It was these two kids she had."

"What, like, they were right there in the room with her?"

Jean-Luc tried to block out the chatter of the men behind him with increasing difficulty. He had come down to the kitchen for a break and somehow those damned books had followed him. Perhaps it was time to head back up to his office.

"Yeah. Right there. And one of them was _watching_ us, you know?"

The men in the room jeered at that, laughing loudly.

"No, but you didn't see them. They had these eyes. Like...demon eyes. Eyes of the Devil."

"What did you just say?"

The books tumbled out of Jean-Luc's fingers and spilled across the floor. Everyone froze and turned to stare at the boss.

~-/-~

Remy wasn't sure about all this noise.

First his mom had screamed. Big men came through the door and mommy had screamed. That wasn't very nice.

Then Renée had grabbed his hand and squeezed. She was frightened, he could feel it. And that wasn't very nice either.

One of the men came over to their crib. Remy could feel the man's excitement and anger and greed and so many things he didn't have a word for. That wasn't very nice.

Mommy ran out of the room and didn't come back.

The men started talking. Then they started shouting.

Remy got sleepy so he laid down and tried to rest.

He felt himself get lifted up, out of the crib. He watched the big man yell at the others. Then the big man settled him against his chest for a warm cuddle. _That_ part was nice.

But the worst part came right after.

They started walking toward the door, away from the room. Remy's head shot up in distress because they were all leaving. And Renée was still in the crib.

Remy screeched in fright, chubby little hand stretching back toward his sister. The man kept walking and Remy began to cry in earnest.

He squirmed. He wanted down! Now!

But the man kept walking and they were almost out the door.

Remy stretched until he could see over the man's shoulder.

Renée was watching him. She stood at the edge of the crib, not making a sound.

Remy lifted a hand and cried. The door shut.

She was gone.

~-/-~

Charles Xavier shot up with a shuddering gasp.

He'd seen a baby, he'd heard- he'd heard-

He took a deep breath, trying to orient himself. What was that? It had been something. Something powerful...

A twinge in his back almost brought him to his knees.

With a cry of pain he fell forward to grip the sofa.

When had he fallen asleep? He had dreamt something. What was it again?

"You okay Charles? I thought I heard..." Hank hung in the doorway to the parlour, voice wavering uncertainly.

"What? Oh," Charles looked down at his soiled pyjamas and frowned. When was the last time he'd bathed?

"Charles?" Hank took a step into the room, worry escalating.

"Medicine. Just need more medicine," he waved Hank off with a mumble.

"I- alright, yeah, I'll go make sure you have enough," Hank strolled away.

Charles wiped the sweat from his brow with a shaky hand. He blew out a cool breath and lowered himself onto the couch once more, waiting for Hank's return.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift hazily.

Just before sleep took him he remembered the strangest part of his dream.

A pair of black eyes.

~-/-~

There are a lot of people in New Orleans who learn about Death. About how cruel Death is. About how swift Death is, or how painful.

Sitting alone in a dirty motel room is one little girl who could probably tell you the most shocking thing of all.

 _The worst part about Death is being reborn._

~~~-/-~~~

Words From This Chapter:

"Ta gueule" = Literally translates as something like "your muzzle". It is a rude and shortened way of telling someone to "shut up".

"Mausoleum" = A small, ornate building usually found in a graveyard, used to store bodies in 'above ground' burials.

"Putain" = A diverse curse word that can change meaning, depending on how it's used. To call someone "putain" is to call them a "whore". To use it as an expletive it's akin to saying "Shit!" or "Fuck!" or "Dammit!".

"Conards/Conard" = A very derogatory term. Comparable to calling someone a "motherfucker" or a "cunt".

"Krewe" = A Krewe is a social club that plays an important role during Mardi Gras festivities. Krewes are famous for designing and parading their own floats, hosting grand parties often called 'Krewe Balls', and helping to maintain their communities and their historical culture. Joining a Krewe often requires a rite of passage, much like joining a fraternity or sorority.

"Petite" = Literally translated, it means "little". Can be used as an affectionate term for someone who is younger or smaller than you.

"Cheré" = Literally translated, it means "dear/dearie". Cheré is often used as a general term of address by Cajuns, when speaking with each other. Equivalent to some English folks using 'love' as in 'What will it be, love?'.

"The Big Easy" = A nickname for the city of New Orleans, Louisiana.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 - Perspective and Memory**

 **By TsukiRiver**

In the earliest stages of life memory is a strange thing.

It is fickle and fleeting while at the same time long lasting and capable of shaping who we are, and who we shall become. We might not be able to recall the events - but the consequences, what comes from those early memories - those stick with us. Both the good and the bad.

It might be for the best that we do not, cannot, remember that which shapes us in our earliest years. If we could, if we knew the reasons behind why we are the way we are, there is no telling what we might become.

~-/-~

She was cold.

Physically, mentally, emotionally.

Cold and exhausted.

How many times had she gone through this now? She didn't really care to count, but certainly far more than any normal human being should. She laughed at herself, she had stopped being normal long ago.

From the moment she was reborn into a world she once believed was fictional, a world she thought only existed on TV and in manga, she ceased being anything remotely resembling normal. She might have been, if not for the fact that she could remember... She could remember the life... no, lives that came before.

Her memories may have faded with time, but she still remembered. She recalled every single life she had ever lived, as far as she was aware at least. It was for this reason she was tired. Once again she had been reborn. Once again she had been thrust into a new life with a new face, a new name, a new family.

A family that she had already failed.

She looked to her left to the empty space where her brother, her twin, once kept her warm.

She had felt them as they came down the hall. Not only their chakra, weak as it was, but their emotions as well.

The anticipation, the greed, and from one, a sickening concoction of emotions that seemed to overwhelm all others around them. Desperation, guilt and self-loathing swirling together with a righteous anger that _burned_ her even as an unholy greed threatened to drown her.

It was too much, even for her old soul.

So naturally, she took it all on.

She shielded her brother from the onslaught of emotions, all the anger and fear, all she could handle and then some. Too much, far too much for her to handle, all on her own.

But she kept a tight grip on the tidal wave of emotion and the hand of the one she was protecting. The little whisper of worry that came from his young mind resonated with her and she couldn't help but respond with a sweep of calm.

It didn't matter what was going on around her - the shouting of men, her mother running from the room, the looming presence of _someone_.

None of it mattered to her, until her brother was removed from their shared crib by the looming man with the too many emotions.

In that moment she finally realized what was going on and knew that it was too late to stop it.

So she didn't.

Instead she sent one last emotion to her twin. She sent him every last bit of affection she had within her being. Desperately trying to make sure he _knew_ that he was loved.

She thinks, (hopesprayswishes) that he understood. In that final moment when their eyes met one last time. Because, in that one single moment, she felt the same from him, and it made hers grow all the more.

She was cold, but her determination burned with the Will of Fire as she swore to find him, someday, no matter the cost. He was her brother, her twin, and there was nothing, in this world or any other, that would keep her from getting back to him.

~-/-~

He knew it was wrong. He knew, and it filled him with a sense of guilt, but he also knew it had to be done.

He had Cameron take him and a couple others over to the seedy motel where he'd last seen the woman he had met, and more importantly her children. One of which could be the child that was the key to saving The Thieves Guild, the child with the Devil's eyes.

As he made his way up the stairs he could feel his anticipation grow with every step, and with it his self-loathing.

What kind of man was he to be excited about taking a child from its mother? About taking a Mother from her child?

He tried to remind himself, that he was only going to take one. A feeble attempt to make himself feel less guilty about what he was about to do. It only served to remind him of the fact that he would also be separating two siblings, twins.

Before his thoughts could turn against him they came upon the room they were searching for. He had no need to say anything, the door to the room was opened with no effort at all. It was almost laughable how simple it was to get into rooms in places like this.

He had assumed that, being members of the Thieves Guild, the men he had brought with him would know when to use stealth rather than force. He was proven wrong when one slammed open the door, effectively abandoning any pretence of discretion. The entire situation was made worse by the mother screaming and running from the room as if the devil were on her heels.

He glared at the thieves responsible for making this more difficult than was absolutely necessary, willing them to feel his ire. He felt a vindictive sort of satisfaction as one of them shuddered.

Making his way into the room he gave it a once over, it seemed like just about every other motel room he had seen. Bare and on the verge of breaking down, the only notable difference in this room was the cheap crib by the bed.

As he walked toward the crib he could feel his irritation at his subordinates turn to anger.

How did it come to this?

He was a thief, yes, but this was different. What he was about to do, it wasn't like taking something from a vault to be sold or coveted.

He was about to steal a child from their mother.

He was going to steal a _life_.

He paused as that thought turned to another. He was going to steal a life, just like his father had stolen Clemente's. He was about to rob a child of their sibling, all for the sake of some prophecy that may not be true.

But what if it was?

What if this truly was the only way to save the Thieves Guild from ruin? He couldn't take that risk...

The children were young enough that they probably wouldn't remember each other, and it wasn't as if he was going to treat the child poorly. Such a thing was unthinkable within the Guild.

He looked once more down at the children in the crib, this time really looking at them.

His eyes were first drawn to the one in the shockingly pink clothes. That was certainly a lot of frills to fit on such a small body. Chuckling silently he shifted his attention toward the other child, the boy. He was wearing a worn out pair of navy overalls that looked a few sizes too large over a blue and white striped shirt with a little anchor stitched on it.

The sight of it got a small grin out of him, and then the boy opened his eyes and he knew for certain which child he would be taking. He was already favouring the boy as he had no idea how to care for a girl, and no doubt it would be much more difficult to teach a woman the things he hoped to teach the child.

Yes, the boy was the better choice.

He would leave the girl to her mother and he would have his heir in the boy with the devils eyes and the hair like hellfire.

Carefully he reached down into the crib and extracted the boy's hand from the girl's and picked him up. Bringing him to his chest he tried to ignore his foolish subordinates, whose argument had escalated to a full on shouting match.

Finally having enough of their stupidity he turned to face them with a snarl, "ENOUGH!"

The entire room seems to freeze for a moment before one of the men he had brought with him, slowly turned to face him, his entire body full of tension and his face contorted with irritation. Throwing his arm as if a mere hand gesture wasn't enough to express the levels of his exasperation.

"Boss, Really? You can't... You _**Have**_ to be Kidding!"

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow, "Do you have a problem with what we're doing, Bill?"

Vincent clenched his fists, bringing his arms down to his side, "Yeah I do! Joking about my name doesn't change the fact that THIS IS KIDNAPPING! We are thieves. We steal money and art. _Things!_ NOT CHILDREN!"

He spun around to face the others in the room. "This is a whole different kind of illegal! Can't you see how insane this is?"

Jean-Luc could see Cameron trying to meld into the corner, and pretend he wasn't there. The man he had been arguing with before, John looked ready to throttle his fellow thief. He took a glance at his second in command, Oliver Lehane, who was a blond pillar of calm in this entire mess.

"Insane?" Jean-Luc's voice was low and soft, a dangerous sign. Every spine in the room straightened and Vincent could feel the hairs on his arms raise. He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders.

"You really think anyone else believes in that prophecy shit?"

Everyone was silent, watching the two men volley back and forth.

And something in Jean-Luc snapped.

He turned to _Bill_ with a deceptive smile and gestured broadly with one of his hands.

"You know what, mon ami? You're right! _There's_ the door."

Vincent's eyes widened and his Adam's apple bobbed. Jean-Luc's grin widened further, showing a row of straight, white teeth.

"I- I-"

"In _fact,_ " Jean-Luc turned to the room at large, " _Anyone_ can leave. Right now. No questions asked."

No one moved. Jean-Luc met _Bill's_ eyes, held it with a hard glare.

Bill broke first, looking at the floor miserably.

"No?" Jean-Luc's smile dropped into a thunderous scowl. " _Good._ Because I want to make one thing clear, right here, right now. This child is coming with me. Anyone who stands in my way will be dealt with. Permanently."

Silence reigned.

Jean-Luc turned without another word and walked slowly out the door.

As he turned into the hall, the child, Remy, his _son_ , began to cry.

If he'd looked back, he'd see the silent promise in the girl's eyes, and the cold fury that did not belong on a child's features.

Jean-Luc turned without another word and walked slowly out the door.

He knew it was wrong, but so long as it kept his family safe. He could honestly care less.

~-/-~

He's in a room, large, dark, silent, and empty...

Nothing happens for a long time, it feels like he is stuck for an eternity, unable to move or speak. It is cold, he feels the chill grip his body. There is an odd warmth at his back, comforting in the cold and the quiet.

Suddenly everything is moving, the door slams open and dark imposing figures pour out from the blinding light. A scream, loud and terrified, shakes his very soul as the cold that surrounds him turns inward and it grips his heart and instead of being frozen he is falling, falling, falling...

The world is spinning around him and he can't tell which way is up, he feels sick and terrified because everything is as black as his eyes and then it isn't and he is on a plane of white with a shadowy figure looming before him.

As it moved closer and closer he began to look around frantically for something, anything to protect him. He looked behind him he saw his shadow, not at his feet but standing upright with rims of green where eyes should be, and for a moment, he felt safe, like nothing bad could happen. He could almost see it smile as it reached out to him, almost touching him before the great figure he had turned his back to grabbed him and lifted him up high, high off the ground as it tightened its grip until he couldn't breath and his ribs were about to snap. Then…

Remy woke up with a gasp, shivering and covered in sweat, tears welling in his eyes.

It happened again, another nightmare.

He just wanted them to stop!

They were scary and the shadow with the green eyes was showing up to save him less and less. He just wanted his Père. Remy crawled out of his bed and grabbed one of his blankets and made his way to his Père's room as quietly as he could.

When he got there he carefully opened the door and stuck his head inside.

"Père?" He asks quietly.

When he didn't get an answer he moved further into the room and tried again, "Père?"

Once again Remy didn't get an answer and so he moved right by the bed and tugged on the sheets. "Père, are you up? Père? Wake up..."

Finally he was answered by a quiet groan and a gruff, "I'm up, I'm up."

Remy bit his lip and looked at the floor, "It happened again Père... Can I stay with you?"

Remy's Père slowly sat up and looked his way with a soft smile. "Of course you can, cheré."

Remy smiled back and crawled into the bed, cuddling up to his Père. He tried to go back to sleep but he didn't feel tired any more. He wiggled a bit, trying to get comfortable but he was too awake.

His Père grunted and nudged him gently, "Cheré, go couche-couche."

Remy yawned and scooted closer to his Père.

"Okay," he mumbled as he once more began to sleep, this time in the safety of his Père's presence.

When Remy woke up the next morning his Père was already out of bed, so he crawled out bed and checked bubba's room to see if he was awake yet. Etienne was really bad at waking up early and so Remy usually had to wake him up.

It was really fun because he got to wake him up any way he wanted!

When he checked inside the room nobody was inside and everything was all put away. Remy was confused until he remembered that Etienne was on a trip with Uncle Oliver.

After that he made his way to the dining hall, saying hi to everyone he passed. Once he got there he asked one of his uncles to help him make a plate for his Père because he always forgot to eat in the morning unless someone reminded him.

Once he got the plate all filled up with his Père's favourite things he walked to his Père's office trying really hard not to spill anything. It was hard, but he was getting a lot better! Once he got to the big office doors he frowned and looked at his full hands.

He couldn't push open the door with his hands full because if he tried he would make a mess, but he couldn't set everything down because then he wouldn't be able to pick everything back up.

He tries all kinds of ways to open the door, with his back, his elbow, his head, and even his feet!

Until finally the door opens, but not because of Remy, but because his Père had finally opened the door for him. When it opened Remy almost dropped the food because suddenly the door wasn't there anymore and he was leaning into nothing. Remy caught himself just in time and looked up at his Père with a grin, "I brought you breakfast!"

His Père snorts, "I can see that."

Remy bounces up and down excitedly, "I made sure to get ALL of your favourites! I didn't even drop a little bit!"

"Really now? Not even a crumb?"

Remy shakes his head, "Not even a crumb!"

He smiles and ruffles Remy's hair, "Good job Cheré, I'm proud of you," opening the door a bit more so Remy could get in without bumping into the door.

Remy comes in and very carefully places everything down on the table as his Père looked on with an amused grin. After everything was on his desk and everything important was removed from the spill zone the two of them sat down together and began to eat.

"Ca c'est bon! You chose perfectly, cheré."

Remy's smile was bright enough to light up the room.

They continued to eat, sometimes talking, but for the most part simply enjoying the food.

When they had finished Remy looked up at his Père and asked, "Père... Sometimes when I have a nightmare I see a shadow and it looks like me and has eyes just like mine, but they're green and I don't know why but when I see it I feel safe and loved and... Père... Why would the shadow have green eyes? Sometimes I think it might be my mom but it looks like me, and it isn't big like you so it can't be, right? It feels more like bubba, but his eyes are that pretty brown and green and they're white like yours. Père, do you know the shadow person?"

Remy's Père was quiet for a moment, "Why do you ask me cheré?"

"Because you know EVERYONE Père!"

He looked at Remy, and everything was quiet for a long time, "Well Remy, I'm sorry, but I don't know who your shadow might be. When I found you as a baby you had been abandoned. Left for dead by people who were scared of you because of your eyes. They left you, but Père found you, and I'll never stop loving you, cheré."

~-/-~

Memory is a funny thing, it comes and goes as it pleases and no one memory is set in stone.

Memory also has an odd habit of changing when something you think you remember, is said to be wrong by someone you trust. It is so easy to come to the conclusion that you were and they are right because it is much easier to believe someone then it is to trust in yourself.

Nothing is set in stone and everything can be questioned, even the existence of your own family.

~~~-/-~~~

Words From This Chapter:

"Mon ami" = Literally translated, it means "my friend".

"Père" = Father.

"Cheré" = Literally translates as "dear". In proper French, it is pronounced "share". In Cajun French it is pronounced "shaa".

"Couche-couche" = A Cajun term meaning "fall asleep". Many young Cajun parents tell their fussy babies "Go couche-couche, cheré". It is pronounced "koosh koosh".

"Ca c'est bon" = Literally translated, it means "It is good". Something you might say when something pleases you.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - Emotions**

 **By MisteriosaSaky**

Emotions are a curious thing - they are feeble and tame, but also strong and wild. They are impossible to predict, but also easy to control. They can be harmless and unnoticeable, but they also can be dangerous and obvious.

Emotions can change who you are, or can keep you unchangeable. They can get you to make the biggest mistakes and commit the biggest sins. They can make you a hero too, and a saint.

There is no one who does not have emotions. The bad man, the good man, everyone has them. Some have twisted ones and some have straight ones, some emotions are strong and some are weak, there are people with missing emotions, but they are always there and are what truly shapes us...

~-/-~

When Renée was born, or more accurately when she was reborn, it was with a profound sense of tiredness.

Tiredness and annoyance. She was annoyed and near the very end of her rope, but she suppressed it. There are things about life and the universe you don't want to know, that you don't _need_ to know. How it feels to be born is one of those, and she knows that feeling all too well. She's known this feeling for a long, long time. She's been born more times than she should. She doesn't know how or why, and she doesn't care.

She can't remember her past lives very well, not this time, but she has glimpses of people and names and labels that follow these glimpses. But she doesn't care, not _this_ time. She _knows_ that in her next life her memories will be clearer (Probably. It's happened before, she knows that in her soul it will happen again. It is not something she wants but she is already resigned to her fate).

She was cold, and her mother was _not_ mother material. There are shakes in her mother's arms and her too pale skin peeks out from her worn shirt and Renée can see semen on her neck. And how was she able to see so well after being born barely a few hours earlier?

She didn't care. She was tired, oh so tired. This was just too troublesome. She bet Shikamaru was somehow, somewhere, waiting for her. He was the only one she could remember vividly. She remembered his face as he battled with a god. Remembered his worry, his love, his unrelenting strength. She'll always remember him. He saved her, she owed him that. He and almost all of her second life was vivid, at least more vivid than the rest. She heard a disturbing cry that was not her's, she was sure about that. Then feelings that were not her own filled her very core. Confusion. Terror. Anguish. _Hunger_.

She was not cold anymore and she was not tired either. Because that piece of her soul that she didn't know was missing was just there. That baby was not Shika, she knew that, but he was still her little brother and she'll be damned if she would let him get hurt.

She didn't have high expectations of her mother. But sometimes appearances are deceiving. She hoped she was wrong this time. Not for herself, but for her younger sibling's sake.

~-/-~

Renée was having a bad day to end a crappy week which was part of an even crappier month. It all began with mother, her _oh so_ dear mother, finding that stupid store that sells those _dresses._ Pink little menaces with _frills._ She'd never been a fan of dresses, especially ones that were pink or had, Kami forgive her, _frills_ on them _._ But Mother was so happy when she found it, and Remy was even happier (sweet little Remy). That's why even if she wanted to scream and yell, she didn't. Even though pink clashed horribly with her red hair, her too fair skin and her green over black eyes, Remy was happy with the brightness of her outfit and that was enough for her.

And her mother, her sweet, clueless and _healthier_ Mother was happy. That was why she swallowed her pride, every ounce of it, and smiled. Her mother was not the brightest crayon in the box but she was not stupid either. Unfortunately the use of heroin left marks. Add the fact she never learned how to _properly_ read and the fact she didn't know a single thing about kids...it was adorable in some twisted way. She was nice. She cared about them, enough to leave the heroin behind. But she didn't _know_ how to take care of them.

She was twitchy and jumpy, and didn't know what was the normal behavior and growth of kids. Which was a blessing in and out itself for Renée. The woman was trying, so very, very hard and it was endearing.

But she bought dozens of those _frilly_ dresses _._ She spent every dollar she had on them which left them with barely enough money to eat. And nothing at all for next week. They weren't going to have enough for a few more weeks, yet. So Mommy had the _bright_ idea to bring _men_ to their apartment. Sex for money.

And if that wasn't disturbing enough, she did _it_ just _there._ In front of them. Her brother was confused and scared when she had _intercourse_ and the fact Renée can feel their chakra and emotions just _too_ well...It was just another level of disturbing.

She tried to protect Remy, she did the best she could even though she knew she shouldn't. Not to the extent she did. Because Remy was one and a half and he didn't talk. He could, but he didn't. He didn't need to, she always spoke for him and helped him with whatever he needed. She couldn't help it. He was her little brother and she hated when he was upset. And then, when she was beginning to believe her mother turning tricks in front of her kids was the worst thing that could go wrong, these _men_ barged in and took Remy away.

And she was furious! With them, with her mother, but mostly with herself. She was supposed to take care of him! She swore to herself she would do that! That no matter what, she'd protect her brother, and she couldn't kept her promise...

She couldn't, she was powerless, hopeless and alone.

That part of her soul Renée found, the part she didn't know was missing was lost again.

She was completely alone in that place, she was cold. But not physically, her soul was cold, that missing part, her little brother, her Remy was not here, all because she was too weak, too focused on protecting him from _himself_ to realize what was happening around them.

Where was that strong kunoichi she once was? That feared Shikabane-hime who was feared for her prowess in fuinjutsu, with that sharp mind that only a Nara possessed?

She was not here, of that Renée was sure, but she'd come back.

Renée was going to make sure of that, Renée _was_ Shikabane-hime, Shikako Nara, twin sister of Shikamaru Nara, daughter of Yoshino and Shikaku of the Nara clan, part of the feared Team 7.

But her little brother was missing, and she was at fault. She'd make sure that Shikabane-hime returned, but in that moment she didn't care about her past life, her past _lives._

She was Renée now, a little girl with an adult mind, a smart girl that promised to take care of her brother, that swore to protect him at all cost. A girl that broke her promise, who missed her other half, her sweet little brother, and it was all her fault.

"Aghrrr! I am so stupid!" She yelled, kicking and throwing things around, "I should've stopped them! I should've said something! Anything! Why the hell did I freeze!? I am supposed to be with him, not alone in this room! And now Remy is by himself with that- that- that scum!"

There was a moment of silence when those words were finally processed for her, she was here, and Remy was with that _scum,_ her sweet little Remy, her bright and smart little brother who barely talked, (he understood, sometimes too much, he was very smart after all) because he didn't feel the need to utter any words, knowing that she always knew what he wanted or needed.

The same little brother that was able to feel emotions, just like her, but not to the same extent. Only, she was able to control her _link_ with him and so take most of his emotions away. She couldn't do that now, not when the distance between them was too big, and that distance was certainly too big.

There were a few good things about having lived in so many places, she decided absent mindedly, even if she didn't remember clearly her past lives, she remembered the _languages,_ that meant hundreds of _bad, curse_ words to express herself.

All the rage, and the guilt, and the self-loathing, every thought and feeling that filled her mind had a word. And for a moment, just for that moment, she chose to forget about the world around her and let her emotions go wild.

They were expressed in a loud and very explicit way, and if there was a few tears falling from her face, she was not going to acknowledge it, it wasn't like people could notice (not in this forgotten and shady motel room).

After two hours of crying non-stop, something ancient and powerful, something she always knew was inside herself, something she refused to acknowledge before this point (like why she could see so well in the dark, why she could feel chakra in a world where no one else had any, why she could use it in little ways, the fact her eyes were black and while she couldn't do much with it yet, it was so easy to make her shadow… twitch), that something finally snapped and her form (the form of a little redhaired girl with bright green irises over dark black sclera, wearing a pink frilly dress) was replaced with a nondescript black form, and it was testimony of her luck (her twice damnable luck), that her mother walked into the room in that exact moment.

You didn't need to be a genius (or a reincarnated soul) to know what happened next. Nobody could blame her mother for it (and Renée was going to be hurt, but she'd forgive her, eventually)

~-/-~

Ginger was scared, she knew she shouldn't have left her bébés behind, but those men broke into her room, that _scared_ her, but what truly scared her was _that_ man.

He was the one that asked about her kids, the one that truly _looked_ at them, he was scared _about_ them, he probably knew what she _had_ done to them. She didn't know much about kids, but she knew kids were not supposed to have black eyes, she had done that to them, and she loved them despite that, or maybe because of it.

And Ginger knew about people that took away the kids from their mothers (that happened when you hurt your kids), but she didn't know she'd hurt them, but she loved them, and she'd be damned if someone took her bébés away!

It is with that resolve that Ginger had chosen to return to her room. Maybe, she thought to herself, she could still stop it, she would find her bébés and everything was going to be alright. But another, darker part of her mind (the one she'd learned to suppress, because her kids were not supposed to be yelled at, or insulted, she had enough of that herself, and she didn't want that for her bébés), told her that was too late, her bébés were no more and these men had not only taken them away, but maybe, probably, _killed_ them.

And that thought only scared her more, she'd be devastated if her kids, (pretty and smart Renee, and sweet and silent Remy) were taken away from her, but what could _crush_ her was if they were not alive anymore, they are her angels. Thanks to them and the love she had for them, she was the person she is today.

Ginger was not smart, and she was broken in too many ways, but she _knew_ that heroin was not something she liked anymore, she was still twitchy and easily scared but she'd get better, she needed to, her bébés needed her (and she needed them too).

So she ran, ran through people and cars, she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. Because she needed to see her bébés (Renee with her beautiful pink dress, and her smart and bright green eyes, and Remy with his toothy happy grin and his innocent and charming red eyes).

Ginger had done it, she was in front of her room, but she couldn't move, she heard strange words, in an even stranger language, and all in a deceptive, familiar voice (one she loved so much), but it couldn't be, Renee didn't know other languages, she knew! She taught her how to talk, and she knew _enough_ about kids to know that they _don't_ learn languages by themselves, not without help.

With wobbly legs she walked inside her room, it was there that she saw her baby, her pretty Angel, she was going to hug her, because Renee, her sweet smart Renee is crying, but before she can take more than one step, her Angel had shifted, her form was not her true form anymore, and she _knew_ , she knew just one thing, _that_ was not her baby.

"Y-You, You Demon!" The adult yelled, and without a through she jumped towards _sa_ fillel, the child, the demon kid, she couldn't (wouldn't) believe _that_ is sa fille doux, her girl is smart, she knew that, she didn't know about kids, but she knew _her_ kids, and that _thing_ was trying to foul her, mocking her with the face of her sweet Renée, she _knew_ her kids were _no_ more, there was no way that those _men,_ would have spared them. And if they did spare them, they'd be together (how they always were), but Remy was not here, and she knew Renée, pretty and smart Renee would never leave Remy alone.

Ginger snapped, the last bit of hope, the last bit of love, the last bit of _sanity_ was crushed when that _thing_ called her Mommy.

Ginger was never going to be proud of what happened next, but in that moment she could only think about _that_ thing, that _Renée_ look alike called her Mommy, with the same voice as her, that same pitch and the same confused expression which _her_ Renée used, and she _knew_ that bright green eyes with hidden intelligence, she _knew_ that tiny little hand that was lifted in greeting, she putain _knew_ that shy and nervous smile.

But she could not be her Renée, she didn't care about the shadows that sometimes moved, she didn't care about her hidden language, she didn't fucking care about her _hair_ , her pretty red hair, that somehow was not red anymore. What she cared was that _her_ Renée had _green_ eyes and this thing didn't.

Ginger knew about mutants. She didn't particularly care about them one way or another. They were humans, strange and powerful ones, but what she cared was that _someone_ was trying to replace her baby, _someone_ was taking the place of her Belle Fille, and she won't let that happen!

She launched forward, her teeth bared in fury and slapped _it_ in the face, _it_ fell to the ground with a surprised and pained sound, she was ready to continue, but she met the _thing's_ eyes, and they were... green.

That... was not right. It couldn't be. She had seen them; they were white... (but mutants could change their appearances, just as you _saw_ her transform into shadows), a part of her mind helpfully supplied.

"Oh! God! Chère, I am sorry, I am, truly, I didn't mean to hurt you, est-où _Remy_? What happened with him?" She asked frantically, her mind jumping between fear and guilt, grief and worry, and a deep painful anger.

"I-I don't know..." Sa fille said with a soft, weak voice - fear clear in her eyes as she touched her face. It was like she was trying to protect herself from her, from her Mommy, that was the last straw.

Ginger fall to her knees and cried. For her bébés, for what she _had_ done to them, her Remy was taken _because_ of her, her Renée was afraid _of_ her, she'd done this, this was her fault.

~-/-~

Jean-Luc didn't plan for this to happen, he was not _supposed_ to care about the kid, and yet he did.

At first he didn't care. Sure, he felt guilt for his actions, what sort of man would he be if he didn't feel at least a little bit guilty? But, he also was annoyed with the kid. Days and days of crying non-stop, asking, _begging_ for Renée, hoping against all reasoning that she'd show up, he didn't get why he'd never asked for his mother, he was _supposed_ to ask for his _mother_ , not his _sister_.

Yet that fact was not really surprising, that Renée was his twin, two faces of the same soul or something like that.

It would have been easier if he'd asked for his mother, Jean-Luc was expecting it. He'd endure it. Yet he _wasn't_ expecting _this_ _._

The _heartbreaking_ cries, the sobs that filled his very core, his very _soul_ : _pain,_ _fear, despair,confusion._

He heard them all. A kid was not supposed to feel so much, especially a kid with Demon's eyes. The kid was supposed to be a tool, something he could throw away after his use.

The kid was not a tool, the pitiful and desperate sobs were breaking his heart, he knew he was not _supposed_ to care, and yet he did...

If it was his mother who he called, he could have managed. He would be hard pressed but he'd endure, but the kid was not asking about her, that was not part of his plans.

~-/-~

Remy was not supposed to do it, his père _hated_ when he did. But Remy didn't know why his père _hated_ it, he liked it, but his pére _hated_ it, he didn't get what was so wrong with pink.

His père was in the bathroom, and his Uncle Oliver was talking with that funny friend of his. He knew he was not supposed to do it, but it was just _there_ , and was _alone_ , and _cold._

Remy knew it was wrong to do it, his père _hated_ it, but he _needed_ to. He extended his hand, curled his fingers around it, lifting the _pink_ hairpin, he should give it to his Uncle's friend, return it, but he didn't. He put it in his pocket instead.

He _loved_ pink, pink was funny, and safe, and love, and calm, and _good._ He loved pink, that's why he took pink and hid it, he _needed_ to protect pink, pink and _girls_ , he _needed_ to do that. He loved his père but he loved pink _even_ more.

Pink was important! Why did his père not get it? His père was smart, he should know that! But his père didn't!

His père _hated_ pink, and he didn't know why.

And his père _loathed_ _'Renée',_ he didn'tknow what a Renée was, but was _important_ , he _missed_ his _'Renée',_ he didn't have a 'Renée', and he was supposed to have one!

His père _loathed_ 'Renée', that's why Remy didn't ask about Renée. He wanted to, but he didn't. He knew Renée was important, he missed it.

But Remy had pink. And pink was safe, and fun, and love.

Remy _knew_ pink, and he _had_ pink, and pink was safe. He don't care if his père hated pink, he _loved_ pink and his père _couldn't_ steal his pink!

~-/-~

Emotions were curious things indeed. They are powerful things, however you are, whenever you are, they follow you.

You might not remember and yet you feel them, you can oversee them, try to control them, and they'll change and shift, but you'll never forget them.

They control you in ways you don't know, can never realize, or in some cases are all too obvious.

And they stay with you, no matter what, they follow you, they are your anchor, your moral compass, a guiding light that leads you in life. A light that fades or brightens, but always stays, leading you onwards.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: - Decisions**

 **By Dinner**

It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped.

\- Tony Robbins

~-/-~

There are things about being a parent Ginger valued more than the life she lived. There was a love that awakened deep inside of her for those little bags of flesh she had birthed. Ginger had never experienced love like that. She was a child of the system with caregivers that had been strict and orderly, not loving.

Unlike her they didn't sit next to their child until it fell asleep. And unlike her they didn't reminisce on days long past while holding their child's hand just so they knew she was safe.

So when Ginger turned fifteen and someone gave her the attention she never knew she needed so much, she gave that man her all. It was the kind of romance only written about in books. It was back in the late forties, the war had just ended and she decided to slip out, as she had done only a few times before, so she could visit the bars where the sailors and army men gathered to drink their sorrow and mishaps away.

As Giant Gerro opened the bar's door for her she thanked him. He was tall and she had to roll her eyes all the way up just so she could see his face. She didn't comment on the bits and pieces in his moustache, or the hairs growing out of his nose, she simply entered the pub and let her eyes drink in all the exciting things that were happening.

There were men and women and they were playing games. Not all of them with cards or dice, some games; or so had she learned from Rita; were played by slowly caressing your legs or collarbone. And she saw many a whore playing that game like they had stacked the deck.

She knew she wasn't much to look at. Her chest was humble where theirs were not, and her hips didn't sway with the elegance that came from years of practice. But she couldn't help trying to emulate the movements. She wanted to be like them - they were loved, they were beautiful.

So she walked to the bar and tried her best to make her bony hips sway like theirs did. Perhaps if she could do that, just maybe she could… Well, she wasn't sure what it would help her get. But the whores looked happy. Maybe it would make her happy too?

She had been sitting at the bar, her red hair curled and her lips as red as the cherries she had crushed to make the lipstick. She was known as Little Doll back then, virgin in more than one way, she didn't drink, but all the boys and men got drunk on her presence. Not that she noticed their stares, she was too busy practicing the game.

A young man, perhaps twenty-three, clad in white pulled up a seat next to her. "A pretty girl like you, what are you doing around these cretins?" he had asked, his lips thinning with a smile.

The game was stacked and Ginger never stood any chance after she first kissed him with her cherry tipped lips and later, later Steven had her other cherry. That night behind the dumpster on some cardboard scraps in the back alley, they did what their bodies were made for. He promised her eternal love, affection and attention. They talked after they made love. It had been dirty, but gentle, and they both agreed it had been good.

Steven had warm hands. He took her hands in his and promised to come back the next day. It was the first time Ginger had ever looked forward to waking up the next morning.

Though that evening felt like a night in the movies, it never truly got its happy ending, because before the credits rolled the script was rewritten.

For the night that Ginger (or as she was called by her caregivers, "Louisa") came back home, the lights came on as she entered the house. There, in the middle of the room in her stately arm-chair sat Mother Superior. Her face read murder. She was grounded for every day she'd been alive, twice.

"You won't leave this house until you've prayed your sins away." Mother Superior had said after Louisa had been spanked raw.

The next night Steven sat in the bar and Ginger didn't show. He met the love of his life instead, the woman that he'd get two sons and a daughter with. Ginger never saw him again, but she remembered that magical night, how a man dressed in white swept her off her feet and made her feel loved.

If you asked Mother Superior about decision making,

she would say that no decision that is made

is without its consequences.

~-/-~

It was a warm morning, the rain from earlier that night still filled the atmosphere. Though it was no longer raining, the air was filled with water, and the humidity was almost as thick as the third peanut butter and jelly sandwich Renée was about to eat. It was warm, summer and early. For Renée and Ginger that meant eating breakfast on the balcony.

The balcony was more of a platform that Ginger had put chicken wire around, but for early morning cloud watching it was the best place in the entire apartment building.

They had moved out of the motel a good year and a half ago. Ginger had found a small apartment and with a lot of love and care she made it into the humble home it was today. The kitchen was decorated with yellow sunflowers she had painted on the ceramic tiles. The sunflowers' leaves hid the cracks, and the yellow made the kitchen glow in the early light of dawn.

"Can I have another peanut butter and jelly?" Renée asked, her feet hanging over the balcony. There wasn't much space between the chicken fence and the concrete floor of the "balcony" but Renée's legs fit, even if the steel wire left its imprint on her skin when she sat like that long enough.

Life wasn't bad. It wasn't great either, but Ginger had done a lot with the little she had. Renée could appreciate that, and she was thankful for it. Though to be honest, after _his_ kidnapping, things had never completely felt the same again.

"Thanks Mom." Renée grabbed the jelly filled folded slice bread greedily. Things might not be perfect, but it wasn't all bad.

Ginger was drinking her coffee, and no, Renée wasn't allowed to have any, and for a moment that was the picture Ginger would remember as one of her happiest moments; Renée and Ginger, having breakfast while watching the sun come up over the St. Louis Cathedral in the distance.

"I have a job interview later today. So I asked for Mrs. La Velle to let you stay with her until I come back."

Renée quickly swallowed the piece of bread and jelly. "That's nice Mom! What kind of job?"

"There's a diner just a few blocks from here, and they're searching for a waitress."

"A waitress." Renée seemed to taste the words on her lips. "Does that mean you'd have to work at night?"

Putting the cup of coffee between her feet, Ginger ran her hand through Renée's hair. "Maybe, but there are upsides as well. It means we could have little meatballs every Sunday."

"I hope you get the job," Renée decided, and Ginger chuckled. "Not _just_ for the meatballs… other things too."

They finished their morning ritual by feeding the pigeons the crumbs they had left. And after dropping Renée off at Mrs la Velle's, Ginger went to Laura's.

Now one thing everyone knew about Laura was that she liked fancy things. Fancy cars, fancy clothing, fancy plates, fancy carpet - fancy everything. The thing not many people knew was that Laura paid for these fancy things by escorting rich men to fancy dinners and galas. Of course the ladies in the neighbourhood gossiped about where she got her money from, but their bits of insight differed greatly.

Mrs Venier, who lived two doors down the street, offered an explanation - she was sure that Laura must've inherited a lot of money through a dead relative. Mr Venier vehemently disagreed - he believed in alchemy and was sure the golden necklaces Laura was never seen without were created by her philosopher's stone.

Their good friend, and sometimes swing partner, the both Ms. and Mr. Elie Smith, declared both Venier's a few screws short of a hardware store. Surely Laura didn't pay for her fancy things, because she was a kleptomaniac. After all, she had seen Laura steal the very earrings she had left on the table when she had been invited over last thanksgiving.

Ginger didn't care about these rumours. She liked Laura, looked up to her even. The pretty hair, long fake nails and impressive bosom, well, she considered Laura the epitome of beautiful. She looked like a tall Dolly Parton. And she was friendly.

"Oh sorry you had to knock sweety, the doorbell fell off last week, and sweet Robbie hasn't had the time to fix the string. And well, you understand that with these beauties" Laura click-clacked her nails and showed them off to Ginger. "-I can't do something as risky as handy work."

"Mornin' Laura." Ginger closed the door behind her and gave Laura two kisses on the cheeks.

"Well good morning to you too!" Laura walked on heels that were obviously a few centimeters too high as her ankles, with each step, came close to twisting. "Come, come, and look what Edward gave me last night." She stopped once she reached a table with a drawer in it. "Yes, Chère, I understand you looking dumbstruck, these are rubies."

"Laura, they're… beautiful."

"I know. They look nice on me, don't they?" Laura swept her hair back and held them in front of her ears.

"They do."

"Vomment ca vas? Did something happen?" Laura's smile, the one she had worn ever since Ginger had stepped a foot inside turned into a worried one.

Ginger fumbled her fingers and looked away, her eyes catching her own reflection in the mirror across the living room. "Well Gingie? Spit it out Chère, or you'll turn sour."

Ginger looked back, a nervous smile on her lips. "I've got a job interview at the Diner today."

"And you went out looking like this?" Laura's hands went up and down, at least twice. "Chère, you pauvre bête. It's a good thing you came by me first."

What followed was an hour of powdering, dress fittings, "oohs" and "Aahs" and a lot of giggling. In the end Ginger looked at herself in the same mirror as before, and she saw someone else looking back. Gone were the dark blues under her eyes, and gone were the cracked dry lips. What looked back was something she hadn't seen in a long time. Her hair was curled in the same way as Laura's, her skin looked fair and her lips were _cherry_ -red.

"I."

"You!" Laura grabbed her by the shoulders, excited about her long-time friend seeking greener pastures, "are a sight to behold, Gorgeous! But something is missing. Ah, I know just the thing." Laura hurried away and came back holding up two red ruby earrings. "Yes, perfect."

"I… You didn't have- I mean, Thank you."

"Well, we all deserve to look like our best sometimes, non?" Laura's voice was deeper when she said that. "Now go have your job interview, make them want you, and make your daughter proud."

Ginger left, on heels too high and ankles ready to twist, for her job interview.

If you asked Laura about making decisions,

she'd tell you that decisions are like dresses,

every dress is pretty but not every dress looks pretty on you.

~-/-~

Vicky's Diner had opened in the late thirties, back then Vicky had already stopped her monthly bleeding, yes she was _that_ old, but no one dared to say her age to her face. It was a place that everyone in their Quarter of New Orleans knew and visited regularly. And though the years had slowly taken their toll on the building the Diner called its own, people still came for Vicky's homemade Gumbo.

But just like the building, Vicky was getting older, and managing the Diner all on her own was getting difficult. Sweeping the floors took longer than it used to, and with her hearing slowly getting worse, soon she wouldn't hear what Old Ernie ordered no matter how hard he yelled it.

So last week she asked Little Anya, the girl that came every Thursday for a sundae swirl, to put up some flyers that said she was seeking help at the diner. To her surprise more than a dozen girls responded, the last of which should've been there by now.

Vicky wasn't one for waiting. Her father didn't wait on her excuses before he took the stress of the day out on her. Her mother didn't wait for her to shower before sending her to school, so she had learned the hard way that making people wait was a waste of time. And that was how she ran this Diner. Swiftly.

A cuppa coffee, ready in twenty-five seconds. You want a bagel? It's already baked. That was why people liked her Diner, why she always ended her night with a full register.

So when her last interviewee came in with a pair of heels in her hands, sweat on her forehead and an excuse on her lips she was swift to say. "No."

"Oh, pardon me, ma'am. I'm sorry, but, please I came a' quickly a' I could." The redhead offered, straightening her dress and wiping the sweat away with a handkerchief.

Vicky grabbed the pot of coffee and poured a cup full. There was something about the girl, something that reminded her of herself. Perhaps under all that makeup and glitter- "You got one chance girl, come. Sit." The cup of coffee was quickly pushed forward.

Ginger sat in the seat opposite of the countertop where Vicky was standing.

"So Chère, you got a name?"

"Ginger, ma'am."

An eyebrow raised, arms folded and a snort left Vicky in reaction. "Your real name, petite."

Ginger seemed taken aback, putting the cup that had been halfway to her mouth back on the countertop. She opened her mouth and closed it, Vicky was sure she was trying to impersonate a fish, until the girl came to a decision. "Just Ginger, ma'am."

"Well, just Ginger. Can you make an egg?"

A little smile danced on Ginger's lips "How would you like it? Sunny side up or scrambled?"

The redhead gained confidence at Vicky's reaction, the towel she had held in her hand was slapped over her shoulder. "Pshaw! So, Ginger, what makes you better for this job than the ten other girls that I've already talked to, that were on time and came in wearing footwear?"

Ginger lost the confidence she had gained by making the older woman laugh.

Back came all the insecurities, she wasn't better equipped for this job… Those other girls could probably do things better than she could, she was just an addicted whore that needed to provide for her little girl.

"I've got childre- a child. And I need this job. Pretty soon winter will come and I want her to have a coat to keep her warm. Or a blanket to lay over her at night. I don't know about the other girls that want this job. They're probably smarter or prettier than I am, but I want it more. I'll work harder, longer. I'll come earlier and try my hardest every day."

Vicky seemed to take her time after that and actually started doing the dishes.

"The Diner opens at eleven but you need to be here at nine and start with passing the broom. You'll stay until after rush hour, which is seven in the evening. You'll clean, you'll pour the coffee and you pour it quickly, you bake the bagels and take the orders. If you do this well enough for a week, starting tomorrow the job is yours."

Ginger's eyes were wider than they'd ever been. "Ma'am, thank you, thank you. I will be here at nine."

"And you'll put on some normal flats, and take off those hideous nails, they'll only get in the way." Vicky stretched out her arm to finish the deal. "Welcome at the Diner, Ginger."

Ginger greedily shook Vicky's hand. "Why'd you pick me?"

"The other _couyons_ that came for an interview were as dumb as a cow's end. And you got people skills, don't ya kid?"

All Ginger could do was smile. Maybe things were going to turn around for the better?

If you asked Vicky about making decisions,

she'd tell you to make them swiftly

lest the decision is made for you.

~-/-~

Mrs. La Velle kind of smelled, at least according to Renée's nose. It wasn't just Mrs. La Velle herself that smelled, it were the thirteen chinchilla's (Simon, James, John, Andrew, Philip, Jésus, Thomas, Bart, Matt, other James, Other Simon, Thaddy and Judas), two rabbits (Tilly and Billy) and nineteen cats, which for the life of her Renée couldn't remember the names of.

Renée didn't dislike having to stay at Mrs. La Velles' home, she liked the animals. She even liked the old lady herself. But time spent at that house could feel so much like wasting time. She had set herself a goal, she had a brother to find. A family to protect.

Ginger was safe and secure, nothing bad would happen to her. She was even getting a normal job, or at least she had been trying to.

It hadn't been easy to know the woman that had birthed you couldn't tell you the name of your father. But according to Ginger her father was part of the navy.

That was nice.

Somehow, while thinking, Renée had ended up with two cats in her lap and one cat trying to climb up her back. She wondered if Remy had any pets? Maybe he was allergic to them, maybe he had a pet lizard named Izzy, maybe… maybe…

She wiped away the wetness from her cheeks.

Lot's of good the word 'maybe' did her.

Maybe he was dead?

Maybe he was being abused this very moment… he could be screaming for help. And she was sitting here petting her cats being happy that her biological mother was trying to get a job!

"Ow! That hurts!" she yelled shaking the cat that was trying to perch on her head by using its nails as cat wasn't having any of it and dug her nails even further into her scalp, trying to balance on top of her. "You wretched animal! Let go." she cursed, lifting her hands up and…

The cat jumped off, taking a good few paws full of hair with it. By now the tears in her eyes weren't just because of… but also because of that cat. Ah, now she remembered its name. "I'll get you back Tora!" She promised, her hand balled into a fist, fiercely shaking.

"Is something wrong Renée?"

"No Mrs. La Velle."

"Ah, it seems we have run out of milk. Here's a quarter. Would you be a dear and buy a bottle of milk at the Market Basket?" Mrs. La Velle got close to Renée and she had to hold her breath for, five, four 'take the quarter' three, two 'back away and smile' one.

"Of course I will." She said before sharply exhaling.

"Ah, yes, your sweet mother be praised, she surely raised a fine little girl. Use the change to buy yourself some sweets."

Renée nodded, slowly making her way, evading cats and chinchilla's. By the time she reached the door she had done enough ninja training for the day, perhaps being here wasn't so useless after all?

Walking outside, Renée knew she was the odd duckling out. Though by now the grownups knew who she was and that her eyes... Well they were just weird, nothing scary, nothing demonic, just weird.

So as she walked the street she greeted the whale of a man that went by the name Mr Berkley, he was her neighbour, but he lived across from her, in one of the manors with a porch, it looked fancy; but the wooden pillars were slowly rotting.

She had visited his house a few times, his wife was as thin as he was big and where he was cursed with boobs she was cursed with a flat chest. But what the Berkleys lacked in body they made up with personality. Mr. Berkley could crack a joke about pretty much anything and anyone and Mrs Berkley was so sweet Renée was surprised she didn't sweeten her tea with her finger.

Certainly there was something wrong with them, something suspicious or malicious, maybe they killed puppies during the sabbath, or drowned kittens when they went picnicking on sundays, the baskets Mrs Berkley carried were awfully big… But so far Renée only had her suspicions.

As she walked on, she waved to Sister Mary-Clarence, one of the nuns of the monastery just across the hill. She received a full smile and wave back. Sister Mary-Clarence had actually been the one that had helped Ginger to get the apartment they lived in now. The church had kindly donated the money and space she'd needed until she could get back on to her own feet.

Just thinking about the kind of charity they had received... It meant they had to give back to this community as well. And so they had, Ginger had taken her with her to help in the public gardens and Renée had more than once taken some of the ripe strawberries and eaten them instead of putting them in the basket.

By the time she had reached the store she must've greeted and waved a good dozen people.

Though it wasn't Konoha by a long shot, she actually kind of liked it here. The neighbourhood felt homely and the people were nice, even though some could get kind of weird, or maybe that was just her. She did have a skewed sense of what normal meant.

After picking up the milk and two overwhelmingly sour liquorice sticks, Renée made her way back. School was out; children dressed in different shades of blue were running around. The boys wearing their summer shorts and the girls their short dresses that ended just under their knees.

She recognized some of them. There was Nathan, a boy just eight years old that was actually Mrs La Velle's nephew, she'd seen him come over a few times. Though he was a smart boy he was hard to understand sometimes because his front teeth had, just days ago, fallen out. So he had a lisp, asking him yes or no questions was a riot though, he got so bashful when he had to say yes.

Just a little behind Nathan skidded Julia with her best friend Gill, short for Guiliani, which was short for pain in the ass. Gill was the popular girl, her father owned the barber shop, and knew every person of importance in this Quarter of the city, Gill flaunted her status as the connected queen bee all too gladly. Little did she know that her father would probably soon lose his shop as the state was trying to remodel the plaza it was proudly heading. Julia on the other hand, well she was just the kindest girl, and Nathan had a crush on her the size of the Empire State Building.

But today she wouldn't be teasing them about it, she had milk and sweets to bring back, so instead of waving and chatting with the kids she hurried back home.

~-/-~

Just when she rounded the last corner she saw the shadow of a pebble being thrown directly at her, it would miss, she had calculated that quickly enough, still she ducked; better safe than sorry.

The pebble fell to the ground a bit further ahead, but she didn't look that way, she looked back; someone had thrown it. "Oh look, it's black-eye. Did your deadbeat mommy hit you? Or are you just that ugly?"

It was a child's' taunt, it shouldn't mean anything, shouldn't hit or hurt. But somewhere it did. But Renée bit her tongue and stayed silent; nothing worse than indifference. She turned back around and decided to just walk away, this wasn't worth her time.

But soon as she did, not one but two shadows quickly raced at her. Again pebbles missed and landed a few feet away from her. Renée turned around, and just for a moment considered acting, but seeing their chubby cheeks, and vacant unintelligent stares she thought better of herself and knew they were already worse off than her.

"Oh, look at that boys! La p'tit catin can't do nothin', she's just so scared!"

And then milk was slowly put on the ground, liquorice was carefully put in her pocket and Renée turned around. "I see."

Of the three boys that had followed her it was obviously the boy in the middle that had taken charge. In the back of her mind tactics that should've been long forgotten or otherwise not be misused on civi's came back to the forefront.

The boys were laughing now, pebbles ready in their hand. "Oh, that's a good one! That's a good one boys. Blackie can see!"

"Yeah, Blackie!" the boy to the left repeated. Renée knew this boy, although knew was a big word… she knew his family, Sister Mary-Clarence's Brother in law had two sisters, and this was the oldest sister's' youngest son. Obviously not every apple from the family tree was edible.

She knew her voice didn't hold much authority, it was more of a squeak than anything, but she knew the power of intent and if she could make them feel that to her they were nothing but a waste of air… Well that wouldn't be too bad. "Oh wow, you must be the smart one, having these two little boys back you up, what did you do for them, bake cookies? Promise to change their diapers?" The boys on both sides seemed almost eager to rise to her bait. "Oh no, I _see_ just like my deadbeat mother you spread your legs for them."

Ok, so perhaps this wasn't her proudest moment, but… they had started it, and she had been tense all day. And it was three on one, and who would believe a three-year-old girl had beaten three big tough boys? They didn't even have a bruise on them, other than the ones on their ego. And well, teeth fell out all the time at their age…

"Surely it wasn't 'La p'tit catin' that pulled it straight out of your foul mouth." Renée threw the little white tooth next to the boy. "You really should be nicer to little girls."

She was about to grab her milk when she turned one last time. "And if you ever insult my mom again. I'll. tell. _yours_."

By the time she was back in Mrs La Velle's apartment the first of the two liquorice sticks was halfway done. "I've brought the milk!" she chirped happily.

"Oh, good, chére. Did you have any problems?"

"Oh just some loose pebbles, but I've put them back in their place."

If you asked Renée about making decisions,

she'd tell you to prioritize, family comes first,

it makes decisions much easier.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 - When It Rains...  
by Ally Haert**

Ginger stretched on the tips of her toes, pushing the last clean mug into place on the shelf. She stepped back with a sigh, wiping her hands on her apron.

Rain fell softly against the window, a dreary warning about Ginger's walk home. The sun had already set, promising a chilly and wet world outside the cozy Diner's doors.

Ginger leaned against the till and rested her eyes, only to startle when someone poked her side.

"That ain't a bed, chère," Vicky said sarcastically. Ginger blinked owlishly at her.

"Here," Vicky handed her a few menus and gestured to the box where the rest of them hung. Ginger put them up numbly and tried to smother her yawn.

"Busy night tonight," Ginger mumbled as she ran a hand absently through her hair, pulling her hairpins askew.

"It's the full moon, I swear. Brings out all the crazies."

Ginger made a noncommittal humming noise and turned to wipe the counters down.

Nearly every seat in the house had been packed for three hours straight. Evidence lingered on every surface of the chaotic dinner rush - dishes were stacked behind the counter in piles so high they flooded over onto the shelving and beyond. The rubbish bin in the kitchen was overflowing, spilling onto the floor mats beneath.

Ginger herself had refilled the coffee pot no less than eight times during her shift.

The mess was overwhelming.

Ginger didn't know where to start.

Her arms felt tired and weak, she had never worked so hard in her life. It was supposed to be easy. She would get a job, provide for her daughter, stay sober. She had no idea working would be… so much _work._ She didn't want this job anymore. All she wanted was a nice warm blanket and a cigarette.

She emptied the last clean dish from her bucket and turned back toward the kitchen to wash another batch, feet dragging the whole way.

Vicky found her there minutes later, elbow deep in soapy water and trying not to cry.

"Chère! What's wrong?"

Ginger sniffled pitifully, lifting her soapy arm to rub her nose.

"N- nothing, ma'am."

"Pshaw, girl," Vicky set down the dirty cups she'd carried in and crossed her arms. "Dis mon la vérité'. What's really wrong, chére?"

Ginger's face fell, fast and hard. She was tired and there was food in her hair and she wanted to go home and customers had been mean to her and- and-

Vicky made a tutting noise and hugged Ginger firmly from behind.

"You look like you been rode hard and put up wet, sweetie," Vicky reached past Ginger and turned off the faucet. "Why don't you leave the rest for Earl and me? You go home and have yourself a nice warm cup of tea. Ok chére?"

Ginger nodded and wiped her hands on her apron, soaking the dirty cotton further.

By the time Ginger had clocked out and grabbed her coat, stuffing all of her tips into her purse and slinging it over her shoulder, the rain outside had turned from a drizzle into a downpour. Ginger pulled her collar up and tucked her head down. The first blast of water on her neck and hands was shocking enough that Ginger hopped back under the awning of the Diner.

She whimpered and stamped her foot. Why? Why would it be sunny all day and only _now_ start to rain when she needed to walk home?

Ginger lurked in the doorway feeling miserably sorry for herself as she watched the storm. The minutes dragged on and it showed no signs of stopping, until she gave up hope that the clouds would pass and started again with a resigned grumble.

Her walk home was gloomy. She tried to avoid the puddles where she could, but it didn't take long for the rain to seep into every crevice of her shoes, soaking her stockings and leaving her toes so chilled that they started to numb.

Ginger was going through a list of all the horrible things in her life, cursing every one of them, when she almost ran into a solid chest. She reared back, startled out of her stupor.

Before Ginger had time to react the figure latched onto her purse and jerked back hard. The unexpected force spun Ginger round, twisting her shoulder painfully and sliding the handbag off in one motion.

It was all the way down her arm before reflexes kicked in and Ginger closed her fist around the strap, hanging on fiercly.

The man grunted at the unexpected resistance. He braced his feet and _pulled._

Ginger opened her mouth, scream rising as she pitched forward.

The strength of the man, the weakness in her arms, the slick of the rain - it was too much. She fell to her knees, and the purse slipped from her grasp.

It had only been a couple of seconds.

"No!" Ginger screamed in panic. _Her entire day's tips were in that purse._

The man was already running, clearly too swift for her to catch. Ginger scrambled to her feet hysterically, determined to pursue, when her thief ran into trouble of his own.

One second Ginger was stumbling to her feet, watching her wages disappear down the street and into the night. The next, she was watching the thief go ass over tea kettle as he was close lined.

The purse-snatcher took an arm right across his neck, feet sweeping out from under him. His arms pinwheeled awkwardly as he landed on his back without anything to break his fall.

In an instant Ginger's rescuer was upon the man, kneeling on his chest and lifting the man's head by his hair, only to slam it down with a sickening thud. The thief went limp and Ginger's rescuer rose, purse in hand.

He turned and slowly walked toward her, hands held up in a calming gesture.

"Are you alright, chére?"

Ginger stood frozen in place, rain running down her bangs to drip in her eyes. A streetlamp was at the man's back, throwing him into sharp silhouette and hiding his face in shadows.

Her heart hammered in her chest and everything in her screamed _run._ What her hero had done wasn't very heroic, it was violent. And _terrifying_.

But he had her purse.

And it was too late, because he was standing right in front of her.

Ginger could feel a panic attack coming on as the theft and the rescue started to catch up with her. When her rescuer reached out a soft hand to touch her shoulder, something inside her snapped.

Ginger shrieked, foot lashing out and catching the man. Right between the legs.

He went down with a choked off groan, purse dropping from his grip and landing in a puddle.

" _Jesus fucking shit, ow!"_

Ginger snatched her purse up and clutched it against her chest dramatically.

She turned to run, tears in her eyes, when her rescuer rolled over and the light from the streetlamp finally hit his face. Her eyes widened in shock.

" _Cameron?!"_

"Ohh," Cameron moaned, body curled protectively around his crotch.

"Is- is that you?" Ginger whispered. Her hands were starting to shake and a rushing noise was filling her ears, drowning out everything else.

"You _kicked_ me."

Ginger dropped her purse, hands coming to cover her mouth in shock. "It _is_ you."

"Why'd you _kick_ me? _Fuck,_ it hurts," Cameron was struggling to his feet slowly, one arm still guarding his groin. He looked up at Ginger and opened his mouth to say something, only to be caught off guard with an impressive slap.

Cameron's head snapped to the side and he scrambled backward with a cry of alarm.

"You!" Ginger lunged, kicking and punching. "A year!" _Kick_. "I've looked-" _Punch_. " - For you -" _Slap_. "- A whole -" _Kick_. "Fucking!" _Slap_. "Year!"

Cameron fell back on his ass, cowering. "I know! I'm sorry!"

Ginger froze, hands still raised in fists. Slowly her arms dropped limply to her sides and Cameron peeked out from between his limbs.

"You...knew?"

Cameron's eyes widened in fear. When Ginger didn't move, Cameron slowly dropped his hands and rolled to his feet.

He couldn't meet her eyes, but he nodded miserably. When she didn't say anything, Cameron risked a glance at her face, which was the exact moment Ginger burst into hideous sobs.

Cameron's eyes went round as saucers, Adam's apple bobbing. His hands fluttered out awkwardly, as if he didn't know where it was safe to touch the crying girl.

"I- oh, _merde._ "

"Wh- wh- why? I thought you liked me? My poor Remy!" Ginger wailed piteously through her tears. Her eyes were screwed shut and snot ran freely down her face, the least flattering Cameron had ever seen her.

With a sigh, Cameron stepped forward to pull her into the circle of his arms.

"It's alright, chére," he rested his cheek against her hair, waiting out her sobs.

She seemed to lean against him for a moment, before stiffening suddenly, hand coming up between them to push him away angrily.

"You stole my bébé!" she hissed, face flushed and wild.

"No, that's not-" Cameron backed quickly out of kicking range, hands darting down to cover his crotch. He continued more calmly, "It's not like that. Remy is fine, he's really ok. We...we're helping him."

"We? Who the fuck is _we?_ Do you have any _idea_ what I've been through this past year? Wait," Ginger seemed to rear back in growing horror, "Were you _following_ me?!"

"Yes. I mean no! Not today-"

"What?!" Ginger looked torn between running away and attacking him again.

Overhead the clouds parted with an ominous crack of thunder and the rain increased, drenching the two completely.

Cameron knelt down, picked up Ginger's purse and tossed it to her.

"I'm sorry, Ginger, but you need to leave."

Ginger hesitated, shivering. Thunder broke almost directly overhead, making the two of them jump. Reluctantly, Ginger took the bag from him and crossed her arms.

"I'm not going anywhere. I want some answers, you- you- _pieds putain_!" Ginger yelled over the storm.

Cameron shook his head and motioned to the purse-snatcher who was beginning to stir on the ground behind her. Ginger had completely forgotten about him.

She backed away slowly, with growing alarm. When she turned back around, Cameron was gone.

Ginger stood, rooted in place. A groan from the man on the ground spurned her into a dead run.

She ran the whole way home, tears mixing with the rain, completely unaware of the new business card safely tucked inside of her purse.

~-/-~

Hands.

There were hands grabbing at his shoulders, pulling him down. He struggled against them, swung his arms and kicked his legs desperately, to no avail. The hands were never attached to arms, never had bodies he could push away.

He was being dragged down, further and further into a deep, dark place.

He would be lost forever down there, he could feel it. With a cry, he threw his head back and searched far above. High up and out of reach, a small pin-prick of light.

Remy fought. He fought like a drowning man fights for the surface, anguished for one more breath. With a strength fueled by fear, he brought his elbow back sharply, knocking the hands loose.

He reached one tiny hand wildly towards the light. Desperate, hoping, praying…

The light winked out.

Darkness.

Remy woke up screaming.

On the other side of town, so did Renée.

~-/-~

Renée wiped her face with a shaky hand, blinking against the darkness of her room.

What time was it?

Her brain felt like it was running on a delay, sleep still clinging to her muddled thoughts. There was something that had woken her...what had it been?

Even now, moments after waking, the emotions were intangible. Fading. It had been something scary. A nightmare?

She couldn't remember.

Renée squinted around the dim room, stopping once her eyes came to rest on a sleeping form. On a worn sofa in the corner lay Ginger, still in her work apron. Renée shook the last traces of sleep from her head and silently slipped from her perch.

It wasn't a proper bed, not really. Ginger hadn't been able to afford new furniture and most of the things in their home were like that - second hand, worn down, dirty.

The apartment was small, no more than two rooms. Even the bathroom was out in the hallway, shared with the rest of the floor. There was a small space for cooking and a small bedroom that the two of them shared. Pushed against the far wall was an old sofa where Ginger slept most nights.

Renée slept on an old daybed that was missing the rails and the boxspring. Every time she climbed onto it, the mattress would sag dangerously in the middle, dipping down toward the floor. But it was a mattress and that was more than she'd had before.

Renée padded silently across the room and came to a stop near Ginger's face. She was close enough that she could smell each stale puff of breath, count each freckle.

Poor Ginger.

Renée had never been able to think of the woman as a mother.

For one thing, Ginger was mentally younger than her. Though Renée struggled to put a number to her age, she had advanced so far past the immature stumbling of youth that she couldn't look at Ginger and see a role model.

For another, Renée could still remember what having loving parents felt like. Perhaps it wasn't fair to Ginger, but even the best parents in this life would've struggled to compare to the warmth of that memory. Ginger never stood a chance.

Still…

Renée reached out a soft hand, stroking Ginger's wet hair gently.

She didn't hate this woman.

Renée stood there for a while, humming softly. Outside the bedroom window thunder started to roll in a menacing volley.

A storm was coming.

For a moment, just a brief moment, Renée considered crawling into bed with Ginger.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, throwing her mother's features into sharp relief. Renée watched the wall as the shadows danced. As quickly as it came, it was over and the room was pitch black once more.

Several seconds later the thunder rolled in, covering the sound of Renée slipping out the door.

~-/-~

Jean-Luc squinted at his cards, taking a long drag on his cigarette. The tip glowed a bright orange, smoke wafting up to the ceiling. To his right, Emile was doing his best to appear calm and unruffled. _So he had nothing._ Jean-Luc glanced to his left, scanning the other men.

Bernard was tapping his cards on the table absentmindedly. _He'd fold on the next round of betting._

Jean-Luc finally stopped on Thomas. Thomas met his gaze serenely, face betraying nothing. Jean-Luc looked down at his cards to hide a frown. Thomas was the only hold-out at the table. The man had no tells.

Jean-Luc weighed his options. _Raise the bet? Or switch the cards around?_

Oliver leaned against the counter over by the ice-box, peeling an apple with a small blade. He met Jean-Luc's eyes and raised a single brow, smirking. _No help there, then._

A small scream down the hallway made all the men jump.

There was a beat of silence that lasted half a breath, where each one of them looked at the other. Jean-Luc was the only one who didn't hesitate, out of his chair and moving toward the bedroom before the scream had even stopped.

"Remy?" he opened the door swiftly, knife in hand.

Remy sat on his bed, blankets pooled around his lap. Tears ran down his face and he scrubbed them away, hiccoughing. Jean-Luc slipped the knife back into his belt with a sigh of relief, waving the men on his heels away.

Jean-Luc slipped into the room and scooped the little boy into his arms, shushing him.

"It's alright, chére. It was just a dream," he murmured. His hand made slow, soothing circles against Remy's back. The toddler settled against him quickly, grabbing fistfuls of Jean-Luc's shirt in his tiny hands.

"Dey were gonna drag me down."

"Who was, chére?"

"Da hands. And the light was gone," Remy broke off a yawn.

Jean-Luc sat down on the edge of the bed and moved Remy to sit across his lap. He hummed lowly, rubbing the boy's back, waiting for him to continue.

The room stayed quiet and dark, and eventually Remy's breathing started to even out again. Jean-Luc shifted his arms, ready to lay the child back down, but Remy jerked awake and grabbed Jean-Luc's shoulders tightly.

"No!"

"Chére…"

"Don' wanna," Remy buried his face in Jean-Luc's shoulder, squeezing him tightly.

Jean-Luc paused, struggling internally. It was late and the boy should be sleeping but…

A little hand crept round and started to play in the soft hairs at the back of his beck. Jean-Luc stood with a sigh, hugging the boy tightly.

"Just until we finish our game, chére. Then it's right back to bed!"

Jean-Luc could feel Remy grin into his neck.

Little scamp.

~-/-~

All of Remy's uncles were making a terrible fuss over him. It was wonderful!

The bright hallway lights had been hard for his eyes to adjust to after the dark of his bedroom, and he had blinked against it for a while. But now he was sitting at the grown-up's table with his Père.

Uncle Oliver gave him apple slices to eat, and they even had the peels off.

Remy bounced in his Père's lap, happily munching the fruit.

The grown-ups were playing a game with cards. Remy didn't know how to play, but it looked like fun.

Once the apples were gone, Remy began to grow bored. He thought about asking to play the game, but decided against it. He didn't want Père to remember he was there and send him back to bed.

Père was very distracted with his card game, now.

Remy peeked over the edge of his Père's arms, looking at the black and red squiggles on the cards facing them. He scrunched his nose up. None of this _looked_ like fun. He looked up at his Père, who had his tongue between his teeth and looked like he was concentrating hard.

Across the table, Uncle Thomas was staring at his Père. Uncle Thomas looked bored too, and Remy _almost_ asked him if he wanted to go play, but stopped when he looked harder. Uncle Thomas _looked_ bored, but he felt...excited.

"I call," Père pushed forward a stack of the funny, colorful coins. Uncle Thomas broke out into a wide grin and Père leaned back with a groan.

"Flush!" Uncle Thomas laid his cards on the table and started laughing. The bubbling, happy feeling coming from Uncle Thomas grew and grew until Remy burst out into a fit of giggles.

"Cho! Who are you rooting for, eh?" Père nudged his side, laughing. "You f'ink it's funny when your old man loses?"

"Père never loses!"

The men around the table roared with laughter. Père shot them dirty looks, but on the inside Remy could tell he was happy.

"Père, can I play?"

"Let him, Jean-Luc. At dis point, he'd probably do you more good den harm!" Uncle Emile was teasing Père, but Père didn't feel angry.

"So you want to play Poker, chère?" Père lifted him up higher so he could see the cards.

Remy nodded, happy he had dodged getting sent back to bed.

"Alright. But just for a little while. Don't f'ink I've forgotten it's past your bedtime."

Remy nodded innocently, confident he could delay bedtime indefinitely.

"These are the cards. We each get five of them and whoever gets the best five cards wins. Understand?" Père brought the plastic playing cards down in front of Remy's face, letting him touch them. Remy nodded excitedly. He was going to play with the grown ups!

"When someone has the best cards, they win the whole pot."

"The rainbow money?" Remy asked, pointing at the colorful playing coins.

Several of his Uncles chuckled at that and the room warmed with mirth, curling in Remy's chest like something soft and fuzzy.

"Oui, chère, the rainbow money. There are two ways to get the best cards," Père was shuffling the cards, quicker and quicker until they blurred through the air, dancing and weaving around his Pere's hands. Remy's eyes widened in delight.

Père was amazing! It was like magic. Not a single card fell.

"You get them through luck," Père started to pass the cards out around the table. "Or…."

Père stopped passing the cards out and set the deck aside. He grabbed the cards in front of them and turned them over with a flourish, "You make your own luck."

"They match!" Remy clapped in delight at the big "A" on all the cards.

"Co! How come there's _five_ aces?" Uncle Bernard cried in protest. "You're cheating!"

Remy felt as all the other grown-ups turned on Bernard in exasperation.

There was a long beat of silence where Père raised his brows and pinned Uncle Bernard with a wry look.

"Mais...you are…" finished Uncle Bernard quietly.

"We've _all_ been cheating," said Uncle Thomas in a long-suffering voice.

"We have?" Uncle Bernard whispered, horrified.

Uncle Oliver was shaking with silent laughter. Père clucked his tongue and gathered the cards back up.

"One more hand, then it's off to bed for you, chère."

Père was careful to shuffle the cards slowly this time, and when he dealt them out all the grown-ups were serious once more.

Remy sighed, resigned to the fact that the fun lesson was probably over now.

Père and his Uncles went around the table, taking turns throwing the rainbow money into the middle. After a few turns throwing money in, Uncle Bernard grew irritated, bright, sharp and buzzing like a hornet.

Remy squirmed in his Père's lap. A few moments later and the irritation spiked, before mellowing out into a calm acceptance. Uncle Bernard threw his cards away with a scoff and leaned back in his chair.

Uncle Emile was next. He stank of fear and discomfort, sticky, sour and clogging up the table. Remy leaned further back into his Père's chest, missing the bright happiness of the room not long ago.

Uncle Emile gave up and sat back to watch.

It was just Père and his Uncle Thomas now.

Père's face was intense, his gaze laser focused. Uncle Thomas looked calm, but inside he began to bubble once more.

Remy looked up at his Père's face, over at his Uncle Thomas, back up at his Père.

Père….didn't know. Père _didn't_ know that Uncle Thomas was being tricky again.

Remy frowned.

With one small hand he reached up to grab his Père's neck and he tugged down insistently. Père bent over with a raised brow.

"Oui?"

"Uncle Thomas has the best cards! Don't do it," Remy warned in a grave whisper.

Père gave him a strange look. He leaned back with a chuckle. "So little faith in your Père?" But inside his Père had gone a bit colder and sharper.

Remy drooped, quickly leaning back against his Père's chest to hide from his Père's calculating look.

The round played out. Uncle Thomas stayed bubbly and stoic. In the end he won.

Remy started shifting, ready to get down and head back to bed, when Père's hand wrapped around him, holding him in place.

"One more hand," his Père was smiling at him warmly, but the way he felt on the _inside_ made Remy's tummy flip-flop.

Remy nodded quietly and settled back in his Père's lap.

Uncle Emile shuffled and dealt this time, chatting away with Uncle Oliver. Uncle Oliver and Père were giving each other a knowing look, and soon, Uncle Oliver was pulling up a chair next the Père and Remy.

Uncle Emile was the first to fold. Uncle Bernard stayed in right alongside Père and Uncle Thomas, this time.

Lots of rainbow money was put into the middle. Eventually it was Père's turn, and Père looked down at Remy calmly.

"Well? What should I do, chère?"

Remy closed his eyes and concentrated.

Uncle Thomas wasn't bubbly this time, he was wiggly, jumpy. Inside he was squirming like a wiggly worm.

Remy turned to Uncle Bernard, chasing the next sensation. Uncle Bernard was tapping his cards against the table and his face was blank, but inside he was popping like fizzy drink, sweet and light.

"Uncle Bernard has the best cards. He's gonna win, Père."

The whole table heard, that time. Uncle Bernard's eyes widened and he met Père's gaze in surprise. Pere nodded gravely at him and Uncle Bernard flipped over his cards.

Three 5's and two of the pretty ladies with a Q on them.

Remy froze as all around him, the room swelled in suspicion.

"Emile?" Père said calmly, "Deal those cards again."

~-/-~

Eight times in a row.

Remy never faltered once. The kid closed his eyes and waited. Sometimes he'd tilt his head as if listening. Every time, he'd open his eyes, look back up at Jean-Luc, and predict the winner of the hand.

Eight times, and not once was he wrong.

No one was laughing now.

~-/-~

Jean-Luc shut the door as silently as possible. He had no desire to wake the toddler, not after it had taken a solid hour of holding his hand and stroking his head before he finally fell asleep once more.

Oliver leaned against the wall, opposite of the door. His arms were crossed and he tapped one foot absently, lost in thought.

"Do you think -"

"I don't know _what_ to think!" snarled Jean-Luc, cutting him off. "Fuck!"

His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles turning white. He took a deep breath in and held it, ignoring the way that Oliver raised his eyebrows and shot him a look.

He blew out the breath, shaking the tension from his hands and stuffing them into his pockets.

"We need…. we need to find-"

"Boss!" Cameron hollered, doors slamming behind him as his feet slapped wetly down the hallway. "Boss, we've got a probl- _mph_!"

Oliver and Jean-Luc lunged at the same time, covering the young Thief's mouth and shushing him with panicked expressions.

"Tuat t'en grosse bueche!" Jean-Luc hissed angrily. "If that kid wakes up on account of your dumb mouth, _you_ get to put him back to sleep."

Jean-Luc frogmarched Cameron backward down the hall, not releasing his mouth until they were far enough away. Oliver lingered just long enough to peek inside the bedroom and make sure Remy was still sleeping, then he joined them in the parlor.

"Now, what's so fucking important that you're charging in here waking up the whole damn neighborhood."

"It's Ginger, she's back."

"Who the hell is Ginger?" Oliver frowned. He turned to Jean-Luc for answers and stopped when he saw Jean-Luc's face.

Jean-Luc felt faint.

No.

 _No._

"Cameron, who the fuck is Ginger?" Oliver asked sternly.

"I'm sorry boss, it was an accident."

Jean-Luc's chest felt tight and hot, like he couldn't get enough air. "How-"

"She was mugged! And I _had_ to stop him."

"Stop who? _Who_ was mugged?" Oliver's voice rose in irritation, but Cameron was completely ignoring him, staring pleadingly at Jean-Luc instead.

"He wasn't one of ours, boss. I don't know who he was. But he got her purse, and- "

"Was she hurt?" Jean-Luc hated how hopeful he felt.

"No. Uh, I mean, she seemed fine when she…" Cameron squirmed uncomfortably, hands coming to rest near his crotch. "Well, she seemed fine anyway. But she recognized me and I gave her your card."

"You _what?!_ " Jean-Luc growled.

"Enough!" Oliver raised his voice, stepping between the two and placing a hand on Jean-Luc's chest, pushing him back. "Who the _fuck_ is _Ginger?"_

"Remy's mother," Cameron muttered.

Oliver's face lit up with recognition, then fell. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Right. That's enough. You're not dealing with this right now," Oliver turned, fully facing Jean-Luc. "Go to bed. I'll handle this."

Jean-Luc puffed up his chest and squared off with Oliver, and for a tense moment they met each other's gaze. Slowly, Jean-Luc deflated.

Without a word he turned on his heel and fled towards his bedroom.

Oliver watched him until he disappeared around the corner. He turned back to Cameron, expression severe.

"Now," Oliver's voice brooked no argument. Cameron's eyes widened and he gulped loudly. " _Tell me everything."_

~-/-~

Renée listened as the sound of thunder grew more and more distant. The rain was tapering off slowly, returning to a lazy drizzle that would probably continue until sunrise.

She sat on the wide porch of her apartment, bare legs swinging slowly over the side.

It was something about living in the South that she was still getting used to - the fact that storms didn't always bring a break from the heat. She sat there in a thin nightgown, watching the passing rain, and still felt sweat beading around her brow.

The sun would be up soon and it promised to be a muggy day after such a long night of hard rain.

Renée grimaced at that thought. Humidity always made the heat unbearable. She couldn't _wait_ until Air Conditioning was a common thing…

She waited there, not really thinking about anything. It was almost meditative to watch the flashes of lightning disappear beyond the horizon and wait for the sun to rise. Eventually the rain stopped, though the sound of water dripping down from trees and awnings still gave the world a freshly bathed feeling. Cicadas started to chirp and Renée finally pulled the flashlight into her lap.

Time to get to work.

She flicked the button and pointed it down into her lap. Slowly and carefully, she moved one hand into the beam of light and wiggled her fingers, watching where the shadows cast by her hand danced against the porch.

She let her mind clear, emotions draining away and thoughts evening out into a placid lake of calm.

She was still. She was patient.

It took a long time, long enough to give her doubt, but finally she felt a small flare of connection. It was a spluttering, barely there thing, fluttering around inside her chakra coils like a tiny puff. Barely tangible.

Slowly, so slowly, Renée tried to reach out for that connection. There was a brief moment where she thought it responded. Renée brightened, excited to feel something after so much effort, and watched as the shadow of her hand wavered and seemed to move.

But just as quickly as it happened, the connection broke, overwhelmed the moment she tried to pump chakra into it.

Renée poured more effort into it, slightly overzealous, but it slipped from her grasp and her shadow snapped back into place, inert once more.

She grabbed the flashlight with a screech of pure frustration and held it over her head, ready to throw. She froze there, hesitating, before lowering the tool slowly with a sigh.

It had been like this since the moment she'd arrived.

It was Earth, she knew that much.

There were songs on the radio, songs that she recognized. And she lived in the iconic New Orleans with Cajuns, all things she had heard of so very long ago. Distant as the memories were, they were verifiable proof that she had returned.

Except there was chakra.

From the moment she'd been reborn, she could feel it.

It didn't burn her lungs or invade her body the way it had in Konoha, but it was _there._ She could feel the unsettling heat of it in the people she passed every day, could feel it rumbling and churning in the Earth deep beneath her feet.

But it was different as well.

In Konoha it had never been anything more than pure energy. Powerful, all consuming and ever present. But in the end, that's all it was. Like the sun in the sky, chakra was relentless and uncaring. It endured, unaffected by the mortals who used and formed it. Chakra had always been and would always _be._

But here on Earth…

Maybe it was because of her new empathic senses, but it almost felt like the chakra here was... _alive_.

Renée shuddered.

No matter what was wrong with it, it _was_ chakra. It moved around living things the way chakra did. It thrummed in the shadows and called to her mind. It had given Renée no small measure of hope.

If chakra was here, this childhood would be so much simpler than the others she'd lived through. She would be able to strengthen herself, defend herself, in no time at all.

It was with growing dismay that Renée began to realize that things wouldn't be that simple. Of course not. Things were _never_ that simple, not for her.

At first she had written it off as a product of her infancy. One could hardly expect a newborn to mould chakra properly.

As she aged through the first year, every single effort at control failed and she began to have doubts. Perhaps this new empathic _trait_ of hers was interfering with her chakra control?

Yeah, empathy. _That_ hadn't been fun to figure out.

For the first several months the sheer deluge of emotions had overwhelmed her, preventing almost all coherent thought. It was difficult to tell where she began and where she ended. The revelation that the wild concoction of emotions might be coming from _other people_ was nothing short of terrifying.

It felt like the deepest violation possible.

Back when she'd lived in Konoha, having people invade her thoughts or emotions was her worst nightmare _._ It was shocking to realize that invading _other_ people's emotions could be just as horrifying.

Almost all of her efforts in that first year had been spent on building up some kind of emotional shield between herself and the rest of the world.

When the men had come and taken her brother, she'd still been too powerless.

Renée set the flashlight down on the porch and leaned her forehead against the railing with a sigh.

"Cho! What are _you_ doing out here all alone, chère? Does your Mommy know you're out here?"

Renée didn't move at the sound of Mr Smith's voice. She counted his footsteps as he crossed the porch to stand next to her.

"Petite?"

Renée looked up slowly, tired in so many ways. Mr Smith stood with his hands on his hips, large leather jacket draped over one shoulder. He was still wearing lipstick, smudged at the corner. It made his severe frown a bit less intimidating.

Renée grabbed the flashlight and stood on creaky legs, stretching out the stiffness.

She turned back toward the door without answering him.

"Feh!" Mr Smith scoffed at her retreating form, shaking his head. "Some people are so strange."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 - Question and Be Thankful**

 **By Tsuki River**

If there was one thing Josie hated, it was a cheater. She had dated more than her fair share of them and something about the fact that they wanted to cheat while she was dating them always made her feel like she was, less.

It was for that reason that it had taken so long to work up the nerve to see if her current boyfriend, Cameron, was cheating on her.

Cameron had been acting secretive as of late, not the kind that came before some surprise he had been planning, or even the type that he fell into before a big job. When either of those things happened there was always this undercurrent of excitement that was detectable in just about everything he did. No, this was different. He was being evasive and quiet; like he was ashamed of something.

She didn't like it because she really liked him. But regardless of how great of a guy he was, if he was actually cheating on her, she would kick his ass.

So here she was, standing in front of the diner where the girl that, according to some of the more observant old crazies 'That boy has been following 'round every night when she gets off.' Standing there, trying to work up that last bit of nerve she needed to face the facts.

As it turned out, the facts chose to face her first.

The diner door swung open and Skinny ginger waif of a thing stepped out.

"Hey there, I was wondering if you were going to come in or what because some people are getting uncomfortable. "

Josie shook her head, "Yeah, sorry about that."

The waitress smiled at her, "Well then come on in and grab a seat, I'll get to you in a moment."

Josie nodded and stepped into the diner.

She sat down at a small table and picked up a menu to see what she wanted while glancing at the waitress occasionally, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. She recognized her as the girl that Cameron had been apparently following home, but it was something more than that...

The other woman walked up to her table, "Good, you're seated and all, now; my name is Ginger and I'll be your waitress. Our special today is the cheese grits, and no meal at our diner is complete without a slice of our banana foster."

Josie put down her menu and looked up at Ginger, "Ah, yeah, I'll take the chicken fried steak and an order of Hoe Cakes, and to drink I'd like a glass of Tea."

Ginger smiled at her, "Sweet or unsweetened?"

"Sweet."

"Alrighty then, will that be all?"

"For now, maybe later I'll get some of that Banana Foster."  
The waitress nodded and put her pen away before going over to the kitchen window and handing over Josephine's order.

Josie sighed and looked around the diner, really taking it in for the first time. It was like many other diners, with its black and white checkers and its rocket paraphernalia, here they made the seats in the shapes of the things. The walls of the restaurant were wallpapered in large prints of the city in the 50's and everything was accented with a shade of green that made it seem almost rustic.

After completing her once over of the diner Josie turned her attention once again to the waitress, Ginger. Even the name sounded familiar, but she knew that the elderly people on the street didn't tell her it.

"How are the wife and kids Mr. Greggor?"

"Doing fantastic Ginger, and what of your little girl, Renée was it?"

"Well you know how little girls are what with two of your own. Now hows about I get you a nice warm cup of coffee?"

"Much obliged Ginger."

Ginger, has a girl, and a little blue heart on her wrist... It couldn't be... Could it? There was no way that this was the same Ginger that inadvertently pushed Cameron her way, right? But then again, it would make sense, a whole hell of a lot more sense than Cameron cheating.

Ginger returned with her tea, "Here's your drink, We'll be getting your food to you in just a moment."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, I'll go check on that food for ya alright?"

Josie nodded and Ginger went off with a practiced swish of her hips.

She was nice, and if she was the red-headed Ginger that had lead Cameron her way, well she would just have to figure out why in the world he was keeping an eye on her. With a smile she accepted the plate of food that Ginger had brought over and decided that the best way to do that was to spend more time around her. Satisfied with her decision she took a bite of her food and nearly moaned in delight, she wouldn't mind coming here more often at all, if everything here was this good.

~-/-~

The Berkleys were preparing. It was the 31st of October and they wanted to celebrate it right. They had been getting ready for this day for the past month, picking out the right cloths, food, and candles, and most importantly, the right sacrifice. The dear dark child had been living beside their home for 18 months. Surely it was a sign that their offerings were being met with favor. This year they planned to make an even better sacrifice, the year had been good to them and they had to give an appropriate sacrifice as payment and thanks. They had even built a proper alter to make the sacrifice on this year. It was a shame that they had to hide it away in order to protect it. Some people had no respect for the property of others, honestly!

It was six in the evening, almost time to begin. Patricia and Isaac Berkley each grabbed their bags and brought them out to their new shed in backyard, trying to keep the contents of said bags as quiet as possible. Once they were inside the shed and the door was locked they opened the (skylight? Window on the roof?) to illuminate the building with the light of the dying day. It had an oddly pleasant interior considering its contents, bones of small animals and a satanic pentagram painted on the floor. An altar stood in the center of the shed, draped in satin the color of a dark red wine and embroidered with black snakes and licks of flame around its edges. On top of the altar was a silver chalice that had been polished to the point that it shone, a candelabra with six unlit candles in it, and a stone bowl.

Mrs. Berkley took a deep breath and whispered, "Oh please let it be this year."

Mr. Berkley put a hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, "I'm sure that it will be. We have been shown much favor already and this year will be our best yet. Just you wait, next time we make an offering, we will be thanking Lucifer for granting us a child."

Patricia nodded resolutely, "Let's get going then."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **By MisteriosaSaky**

 _'This is unexpectedly easy,'_ Renee thought to herself, throwing a coin up and down in a distracted manner, _'Not that that is surprising though, I mean, I am using ninja tricks against civilians...'_

A huff left Renee's lips, _'I wish I had a different way to practice these skills, but if worse comes to worse I suppose I have a way to survive, right?'_ Catching the coin mid flip and storing it in the hem of her dress, she swiped her hair out her face.

"Ginger must be on her way home. I better hurry up there, I am not supposed to be here after all," she mused under her breath, walking towards the busy street, easily dodging between adults, kids and animals barely gracing them with a glance and without changing her speed.

~-\\-~

"Renee? Are you awake?" Ginger called from the doorway, concern and worry lacing her voice.

"I am," Renée answered from the bathroom, her voice, as always, charged with maturity and intelligence beyond her age, "I was trying something new. I made a few changes to the costume you wanted me to wear, it's alright, isn't it?"

"I, I think so..." Her mother answered, 'I love my baby girl, but sometimes she… she's too smart _,'_ She thought, walking towards the bathroom in curiosity, "Then, what are these changes you made? You're still going to be a princess, right?"

"Not really, you know I don't like that all the girls are princesses, I want something a bit more original." Renee answer behind the door, "Yeah, I like it, this look great!"

"Can I see?"

"Huh? Sure," She pushed the door open and walked out, her costume a mixture between black and red, a dress that at first sight looked like it had a life of its own, flowing around her small body in an unnatural and dangerous halo, her upper face hidden under a black mask that made her eyes look even darker and striking than before.

 _'T-This, with that costume she looks like some sort of demon!'_ Ginger thought to herself with a shudder, "Chère, are you sure you want to use that? You might scare someone."

"Bu-, right, you are right..." She said, disappointed at Ginger's reaction.

"How about you use that inside? And when we go out you use the other one?"

"Okay mom," she said with a nervous smile.

~-/-~

 _'Argh! Of course Ginger was going to be opposed to that costume, I don't remember very clearly my first life, but I know that I died well into the 20th century. There the goal was to scare people, but here...'_ Renee thinks, suppressing a sigh. Looking around she could see kids and adults wearing bright and colourful dresses and masks, all enjoying the festival, the ambience saturated with bright lights and positive emotions.

 _'But, this is nice...'_ Renee looked around, took it all in and tightly held Ginger's hand in her own, _'I wish Remy..he was here with me,'_ her lips forming a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Chère, is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong." Renee answer with a bright smile. Turning around to look at Ginger, a tingle on the edge of her sensory range distracted her. Looking around she fixated her eyes in an effort to find whatever was causi-

A hammering feeling bombarded her senses, the feeling remarkably similar to what she imagined it would feel like if her toes were stepped on by a two ton elephant. At first she was going to dismiss it as her imagination but this, this feeling was overwhelming. _'The hell?! T-that...that is not normal! This chakra, it's so twisted it hurts to even experience the touch of it.'_

She pulled her senses back, she didn't want to feel that particular pain again. But as quickly as she pulled her senses back, a battering ram nearly knocked her over as another wave of that perverted chakra spread out as if it was searching for her.

She'd let go of Ginger to grasp her head, as if holding it would stop the pain from cracking her skull in two. But Ginger didn't notice it, and quickly they were separated and weren't able to see each other in the mass of people celebrating Hallow's Eve.

After recovering from that last onslaught, Rene _e_ looked up, and just past the Berkley's house saw a man looking her straight in the eyes. The man was a bit pudgy, and his movements seemed odd, as if he wasn't sure how to move his body, as if he was just trying it out. And then his mouth got wider; as if he was trying to smile but didn't know that smiles were more than stretching a mouth… and it didn't stop stretching, it just got wider, nearly splitting his face in two! And his eyes... they looked dead. He didn't even blink and- and- and-

She was hit with another wave of that chakra, this time pushing her to the ground. It felt so wrong, so dirty.

She looked back up, searched for the thing, for it was certainly no man, but it was gone. It had found her, and now it was gone.

~-/-~

It was later. Not much time had passed, but the moon was already higher in the sky than it was before. So, it was later, but probably not by too much. _'Damnit! This is unbelievable! Where the hell is Ginger?'_ Renee wondered, looking at the chaos around her. She had lost sight of her when she felt those flashes of chakra… What had that been? She held her hand to the side of her head, as if keeping it steady would remedy the lingering unease and dizziness.

 _'I am so grateful for my ninja training right now. Sure, I am nowhere close to where I want to be, but at least I know how to look for people properly.'_ She sat on top of a roof, perched like a gargoyle looking over the street, _'I can't see her, I wonder… Is she looking for me?… What about that thing? Has it gone?'_

A softsigh escaped her lips, lifting her hands to massage her temples, _'That thing, it was looking me dead in the eyes. It was searching for me, and it was strong. Too strong… If that thing is coming after me, I can't protect her… I can't even protect myself, that thing had me floored in seconds_.'

Giving herself the luxury of a last look around, she found Ginger. Her mother was hugging someone, but from this distance she couldn't see the man's face, only wild long hair tinted a light brown color.

Using her ninja skills, she climbed closer to them along the rooftops. Only, to freeze as she got close enough to see the man's face. Her heart pounded in her chest, as if trying to tell her something. She knew him, recognized his face… but from where? Why was Ginger so close to him?!

"Cameron! I - I lost Renee! You must help me!" Ginger held onto his jacket as if it was the one thing that kept her from falling over a cliff.

"I'll try, but with all this chaos I don't know if I'll find her"

"But you promised that Renee and I could be safe! Your lot already took Remy from us, you are supposed to-"

"I get it. I do, but I don't know if I can find her."

 _'S-She knows who take Remy away!? How, wha!?'_ Renee thought with tears running from her eyes. A second later she was turning around and running to her home, ex-home, packing the essentials and her costume, her eyes dry and a fiery expression in her face. Only, before she could make her escape she was confronted with the Berkeley couple.

"Petite, are you alright?" Ms Berkley asked in concern, kneeling in front of her, "Did we do something to upset you? Did we not please you with our offers?"

"W-wha? No!" Renee exclaimed in surprise, "Why would..."

"Does that mean we did it right? Will you give us a baby?" Mr Berkeley asked now, his normally happy face set in serious lines - there was something odd about it...

"Wah...?"

"Or maybe we need more sacrifices?" Ms Berkley continued.

 _'Babies? Sacrifices? The desperate hoping to please tones..._ This didn't make sense. "Uh-um, you want a baby?"

"Of course we do, we made sacrifices every year asking for just that." Mr Berkeley stated.

"Maybe we did the wrong ritual?" Ms Berkeley continued. "If you want, we could worship another demon? Just tell us, we'll do anything!"

' _They want a baby? They are doing rituals to have a baby? Why are they telling me this? They think I am a de-? Of course they think I am a demon…'_ And then a cold part of her brain whispered the words, _"You could take advantage of this",_ She didn't want to use them but maybe they could help each other out? Her mind was racing and the cold hard logic, the part of her that knew how to get the most out of a situation, took over and decided. "I might help with that, but no more rituals - just the one favor. There will come a day when I will give you a price, and you must pay it. You'll get your baby, but only then."

"Done!" The couple exclaimed in unison.

 _'That was too easy.'_ She felt her stomach churning, it was wrong, but they practically forced her... Didn't they? She couldn't just turn them down. She was doing them a favor, Really...

~-/-~

Later that evening, having lost Ginger once more because of the Berkley's. Renee tried to find her again. she was about to get back on the same roof as before to spot her when two arms surrounded her.

"Ah, petit cheré, there you are."

Renee had to fight every instinct not to struggle for control. She was on edge.

"Mom, you found me."

"I was worried sick… You were gone." Ginger seemed to be distressed. Of Course she was, she had just lost track of her child…"Never let go of me again when we're in a crowd like this!"

"I want to go home."

Gingers' face softened. And that stung, 'cause just minutes earlier she had seen her mother betray her in the most horrible of ways.

"Yes, let's."

Ginger picked renée up and held her like she did as when she was a baby, and walked them home. Ginger, every other step, looked to see if Renée was still in her arms.

But Renée was looking over her shoulders, looking for the man Ginger had spoken to before.

 _'I have a trail now, I can find you Remy. Just you wait, big sister is coming for you!'_


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - Perspective**

 **By Dinner**

I acknowledge the four elements. Water in the North, incense to recognize the air in the East; flowers to the earth in the South: a candle for light in the West. It helps me keep **perspective**.

-Laura Esquivel

~-/-~

Hell wasn't just all doom and gloom. There were fire and rocks too, which could be pleasant if you liked that kind of thing. Ernie was not one of those kind of 'people'. Ernie wasn't like the people he worked with. He was different. He liked other things...

Ernie belonged to a long line of minion demons that did the important things in hell. Each day was the same for him. He'd wake up, watch some mortal-tv, he particularly liked the 'Abuse and Neglect-network', and make sure his feet were nice and stinky by soaking them in Boston-sewer-water. He knew Bernadette, the demon that sat in the cubicle next to him was really into stinking feet and he had a major crush on her. Hopefully, one day, she would notice the smell and say hello to him.

After his morning ritual, he'd take a ferry to get to work. His cave was pretty close to the Little Magma, a river that was an offshoot of the Big Magma River. The ferry was always three minutes late, but each morning he'd be standing five minutes early at the dock anyway. After all, you never knew when Charon would decide that he might actually want to be early for once; he was fickle like that.

Charon wasn't the smartest of his kind, or maybe just not the most up to date. There were about six hundred sixty-something Ferriers that travelled the rivers each morning. And Charon, well he was old. While the service should be free since old Hades had kicked the bucket, Charon still asked for the old, and very much out of custom, Obol before letting you on.

"It's tradition. No faring the rivers without first paying a coin."

Ernie didn't mind though, he had obols to spare. They came in the boxes of cheese grits he ate every evening. Some people collected them and some of them were actually quite nice. His uncle had Julius Caesar's obol, it wasn't worth much, but a true collector would pay up, apparently that guy had been some mass murderer or something, and well, demons liked that kind of thing.

By the time he arrived at work, the rest of the desk-demons had also just arrived. Hundreds of little boats docked at the same time and everyone seemed to rush toward the big cave they called The Binary Depths. It used to be called the Paper Stack, but ever since computers got brought in from the future, it was all digital. Ernie had worked there ever since hatching from his egg, and he remembered back when they had worked on Papyrus. He was actually pretty good at his job, although he wasn't as good as Bertus. But then again, no-one was a good as Bertus.

Bertus could process thirty cases in one hour; Ernie managed almost half that on a good day.

It took a while to push himself through the crowd that tried to enter the cave all at once. Ernie wasn't the tallest, broadest or strongest among his peers, so he got stepped on a few times. Today was no worse than normal. By the time he had reached the Soggy Paper Bridge he was only bleeding from two places.

The Soggy Paper bridge was a slippery slope. It hadn't always been soggy. That had only been after the last "bring your spawn to work day". Turns out that one of the spawns had actually been a water-demon. The brat flooded the whole cave - it had taken months to get the place back to normal. But the bridge somehow had never dried…

"Hey watch where you're going!" Ernie yelled when another desk-worker rushed past him with a stack of laptops in his arms.

When Ernie finally reached his cubicle in the far east wing of the cave he sat down and tended his wounds.

"Aw, bless! A double skull fracture."

Those things took forever to heal, He'd probably have a headache all the way up 'till lunch.

"Hah Ern! Did Brutus get to you again?"

Ernie turned around, the bandages he was wrapping around his head losing their grip and unceremoniously falling apart. "No, Scully was behind me, and in a rush."

"Oh _that_ bitch, you got off easy."

"Yeah.. Hey Norm, I meant to ask you yesterday. Did your laptop get that update?"

Norman scowled. "Yeah, can't play Solitaire anymore. But Faust showed me this trick, turns out you can backlog."

"Oh! Neat."

"Yea. Hope the Supe's won't notice though. Rather not get 40 lashes."

Ernie shuddered. "No, wouldn't want tha-"

A bell rang, and the entire cave shook. "Time to start." Norm said sitting down in his own cubicle and starting his laptop.

Ernie did the same, and so the hours went by. It seemed to be a pretty normal day, especially for Halloween. There were the normal cases of someone swearing. A simple grade 1S-file would be enough for that.

Name: Susie Brighton. Age: 8 Place: London. Swearwords: "Bloody hell!"

And so many more followed. It was tedious work, but important. Especially keeping track of the intent behind what people said.

Today was fun though, he got to file a Z-file. For zealous-isem gone wrong. Some religious nut decided to do the snake thing… Those things were heavy on the intent, and really good for soul-collecting later.

By the time lunch break had started Ernie was wiggling his toes. Bernadette was, as always, seated in the cubicle left to him. She'd have to walk past him to go to to the dining hall, if he wiggled long enough and good enough, surely she'd notice the smell. But only a minute later his hopes fell again. She'd walked by without even glancing at him.

It was a sight to behold though. Bernadette was easily one of the biggest desk-demons in these parts of the cave. She had these grotesque horns and spikes protruding out through her skin, starting at the tip of her head and zig zagging all the way down to her hands. There was this really twisted one on her left shoulder that made Ernie just weak in the knees.

It was in that state that Norm slapped his head. "Time to get some lunch, Casanova."

Lunch during weekdays was a simple affair. Every wing had their own dining hall, and every day the same lunch was served. And even though it was Halloween, it was just another one of the normal lunches. Halloween wasn't a holiday for them - they were much too busy.

The dining hall was a wet cavern with ever-burning candles, a gift from the great Fire-Sorceress Illyanka, and was filled with big tables in long rows and stools that left splinters in your butt if you weren't careful.

Ernie wasn't that careful. So the moment he sat down he could feel a particularly long splinter dig deep into his flesh. On every table there were big bowls of green goo. Green goo was nice and fairly tasteless. Which was better than what was served on weekends, those bowls of Red goo did have taste - but it was a terrible one. Vanilla custard was such a terrible flavour; he always got the urge to scrape it off his tongue.

So, anything interesting happen' so fa'?" Norm asked, bits and pieces of goo dripping from his chin.

Ernie shrugged. "I got to file a Z."

"Oh, what grade?"

"Three."

Norm bent forward conspiratorially . "A three?"

Ernie did the same, the splinters wiggling in his flesh. It actually felt kind of nice. "Yeah, snakes man, I ain't kidding you. Seriously, Humans are loopie loo!."

They finished their lunch, flushing away the goo with a few big gulps. Then grabbed a flask filled to the brim with the devils' drink, so their walk back was enjoyable..

And off to work they went again. Ernie was almost at the end of his shift, it was just ten past six, when he heard a high shrill voice.

"I've got a D5!"

It was like the entire swarm of demons around them stopped everything. The temperature actually went down a degree or two.

"I've got a **D5**!" she repeated. And then all hell broke loose. Literally.

Bells started ringing, demons shrieking, hell hounds whimpering and over it all one voice boomed. "Everyone, start procedure 666!"

Everyone quieted down, all laptops were restarted except for Bernadette's. All computing power was now being used for this single case.

Ernie couldn't believe what had just happened. Never had his section of The Binary Depths ever had a D5 - an unknown demon sighting in the world.

If you asked Ernie about **perspective** ,

he'd tell you to get your own.

~-/-~

There are days, in which minutes feel like hours. For Remy this was one such day. It had started that morning, Daddy left for a big job, leaving him alone with Lucinda. And Lucinda was boring. And not in the typical grown-up way. She didn't just not play games, she didn't really _feel_ either.

And Remy knew feelings. Everyone had them, it was how he connected to people, even though he'd never realized that himself before. There was Père, he mostly felt love from him. And there was Cameron, who mostly felt giddy? Cameron felt like he felt when he tried to do something that he shouldn't. There were words for it, but Remy didn't know them yet. His father was teaching him though. So soon, he would be able to put all his thoughts into words!

But Lucinda... Lucinda felt blank. Like a wall before it had been painted. And no matter how hard he tried, he just kept crashing into that blankness. It was like there was nothing there. He didn't like it. Still, he wasn't sure he disliked her - after all she brought him muffins, and he really liked those.

"Remy, ready to add a candle to the pumpkin?"

"Why don't you feel?"

Lucinda blinked. "What?"

"You don't feel ... " Remy looked at her, his head tilting as if to see her from another angle.

"...Let's get the pumpkin sorted. Then we'll get you in your costume."

Distracted by the idea of food and fun, Remy let his train of thought go. "Yeah, let's!"

Lucinda smiled, but it was an awkward thing. "Do you have your eye patch?"

Remy put his hand in his pocket, rummaged through it and retrieved a tissue. It was the only thing in there. "No?"

"Good thing I do then." She said holding a circular black felt patch up. It was threaded with a bit of elastic. "Here we go."

It felt tight, but looking in the mirror he also thought it looked cool. And if he considered his choices, cool won over tight. Simple as that. "I'm a sailor!"

"Pirate. You're Captain John Lafitte remember?" She examined him with a critical look. "Better."

"You're doing it again. You look but don't feel."

"I don't know what you mean. Now when is your dad coming again?"

Remy's face lit up. "He'll be back after dinner but before dessert!"

Lucinda turned to her handbag and pulled out a stick of eyeliner. "Now you're just missing one final touch. Every pirate needs a cool scar!"

After he was all dressed up, Lucinda sat on the couch, watching him with blank eyes leaving him to play. But playing alone wasn't nearly as fun as playing together. And there were ways to get adults to play, even when they didn't want to, Remy had to use them a lot.

"Luc… Can you-"

"No."

"But..."

"No."

"Mayb-"

"No."

Ok… so Lucinda wasn't going to play… Well, then he wouldn't play either!

And so Remy ended up grabbing a book. "Père says reading is important. You're old, you can read to me."

"What exactly do you want me to read?"

"The story of us!" Remy said earnestly.

"Us?"

"Like Père does!" Remy beamed, "Where I'm the hero?"

"...Right." She glanced over the books, her brow furrowed. "Well how about this one? It has a fish on it."

And then Remy _felt_ it. There was a spark. He didn't know what it was, but he could _feel_ her. "Lu! We have to go this way! Now!"

If you asked Lucinda about **perspective** ,

She would tell you

perspective was another word

for view.

~-/-~

The night wasn't quite over yet. Halloween's last minutes had stretched into hours as Renée found herself thinking about what had happened that night. She was lying in her bed, Ginger holding onto her, as if she was a big teddy bear.

Her thoughts were crowded, and focusing on just one thing was difficult. There was the threat of the not-man with the chakra-battering-ram. There was Ginger talking to someone about Remy. And the Berkleys acting all weird.

The latter she shoved out of her mind, she could think about that later.

But then she was still left with two things that she'd rather not think about. There were people with power in this world, people with _**Chakra**_ capable of bombarding her just by focusing on her. She'd rather not think about it, but she knew better than to ignore things she was uncomfortable with.

That.. creature… had looked for her, she could still feel its eyes tracking her, connecting to her own and then flooding her senses with poisonous chakra. She had been weak, her knees had buckled and she had tried with all her might to protect herself. But she was at _its_ mercy.

She'd hated it. Her inability.

But the weakness of that moment felt small compared to the feelings of betrayal. Ginger knew who had taken Remy.

Ginger pulled Renée closer and mumbled. "I love you, my little cheré."

Those little words, they broke something her. And slowly, while she wept, and Ginger pulled her closer, slumber took hold of her.

z

zz

zzZ

The next morning she awoke to the smell of burned toast. Ginger was in the makeshift kitchen, she was squeezing some oranges and filling a beaker with the juices. It looked like a normal morning, but it wasn't.

Renée had shut her eyes, but not rested. Her slumber had been deep and terrifying. And monsters she had thought long vanquished had reared their ugly heads once more.

"Ah, you're awake Cheré."

Renee didn't turn around, the blanket she was under was nice and warm, that was her excuse. It wasn't to hide her face, to hide her feelings that were so close to the surface this early in the morning. "G'mornin'."

"Well, Vicky rung; askin' if I could swing by early today." The beaker was filled now, and Ginger had to be careful not to spill the juice all over the floor while she brought the plate with breakfast over. She settled it on the table made from crates. "Some kids egged the windows so she could use the extra hands."

Renée had taken the time to school her face back to the normal, cheery child which was her default these days, but it didn't change the fact she was still furious on the inside. "Sounds nasty."

"It's just eggs. Shouldn' be too much. Want jelly on your toast?"

With a nod from Renée, Ginger spread the jelly and handed it over. "Mom…" Renée said slowly, carefully.

"Hm?"

"Last night… Did… I mean.. You…"

Ginger put her her toast back on the plate. "What is it cheré?"

If Renée was brave she would just ask her about the man and the conversation she had overheard.

"Thank you for finding me after I let go."

But she was selfish. There was this part in her that couldn't.. didn't want to.. that wanted to protect Ginger from any and all harm, and _that_ talk, it would hurt Ginger.

Ginger gave her a big smile and ruffled her hair. "I'll always find you."

Breakfast was silent after that. Ginger prepared to go to work and Renée was told to shower and go to Mrs. La Velle afterwards. Ginger left, leaving a kiss on Renée's forehead. Love you's were exchanged and Renée didn't go the Mrs. La Velle after her shower.

If you ask Renée about **perspective** ,

she'd tell you that it can change,

but in the end you still see the same thing,

just differently.

~-/-~

Ernie woke up to the screams of his neighbours' mortal-tv. He hated it when that happened, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. His neighbour was a higher ranked demon than him, he was just a desk worker, the lowest of the low.

Still, he followed his morning ritual. Yesterday had been an exciting day, and today he felt extra energized because of it, because today they would show the recording of the D5 on tv.

It wasn't something they got to watch often, D5's were special, An observer demon would be set on the case and those demons, they could record with their eyes. And mortal-tv normally would air a special about it the next morning.

So after preparing his footbath and finishing his breakfast the tv was brought alive by the push of a button. Another button changed the channel to the news station.

"-sper. But Nance, I think it is time for some very interesting news." It was Jimmy Du Buerre, one of the underworld's most notorious newscasters. He wore a pinstripe suit, his snout like that of a pig and horns the size of a wrestlers arm sticking out of his head just behind his ears. Du Buerre, also known as the most eligible bachelor on primetime television, had been the face of his network's news for centuries now.

"Yes Jimmy, very interesting indeed. Our sources say that yesterday evening a notification of a D5 taking place in New Orleans was discovered by The Binary Depths." Nance announced brightly. Nance was Jimmy's sixth co-host this year. No one knew why so many female co-hosts ended up being unheard of after quitting the show after just a month or two, but Nance had been Jimmy's sidekick for almost three now. "Now Jimmy, I heard that you got your hooves on the tapes made by the Observers' office."

Jimmy winked, and his smile widened revealing several rows of jagged teeth. Ernie couldn't help but admire him, if only he had _his_ devilish good looks.. Bernadette would surely fall head over heels for him then. "Well, Nance, you heard right. And we will show the footage of this exciting event after the break."

The camera panned out as the lights dimmed and the commercials started. Ernie hated commercials. It wasn't like he had any money left at the end of the week to buy anything. His job didn't pay that well. Actually, sometimes, every eastern, he had to pay his work… A desk-demons' life wasn't one to write home about.

"Do you want your spawn to get the very best? Are you tired of shaving your wife's' back? Or do you just want some good old fashioned adultery going on?" Ernie looked at the tv, that was a new commercial… "Well here is your chance, just call our numb-"

Ernie tuned the tv out - it was just another infomercial - and started getting ready for work. He still hadn't cleaned out his extra set of nostrils, and well, they were starting to clog. By the time he got back to watching the tv the D5 footage was being shown and the reporter was excitedly describing what he saw.

"Well if one thing is obvious, our observer has found the girl that is supposedly a demon in the human world! The call to hell was made by her neighbours Isaac and Patricia Berkley, these two christians-turned-devoted satanists made their offering, thanking Lucifer of all demons for the GIRL WITH THE DEMON EYES."

The reporter pointed his thrice pronged tail to the profile pictures of the Berkley's. "Now, this is an INSIDERS SCOOP, but my sources at the ALTAR OF SACRIFICES informed me personally that the Callers, Mr. and Mrs. Berkley were sacrificing various small animals and goods in turn for a baby of their own." The reporter bent forward, so he got closer to the camera. "Which we all know, is no longer something the department of sacrifices is allowed to manage since the great tragedy of '21"

Ernie sat himself down in his comfortable chair, the one directly in front of the tv. This was looking interesting. The girl obviously realized she was being watched, the spectral camera, so the reporter explained, clearly registered the use of an energy very much like magic by the girl used to make contact with the observer.

"Bless the pits!" Ernie gasped, Bernadette had found a real loose demon in the human world.

"It looks like this demon eyed girl has control over her own magic but can't stand to be in contact with the magic of an observer demon. Now as we all know, ever since-" The reporter continued.

But it was almost time the leave, so Ernie shut the tv down. He'd have another long day at the office. And he had to be early in case the ferry wasn't three minutes late. You never knew with that old man.

~-/-~

It was almost an hour later before he got to greet Norm, who looked like he had been punched in the nose just one too many times. "You okay Norm?"

Norm nodded. "Yeah, Brutus got to me… I wasn't walking fast enough."

"Tough... " Ernie grabbed one of the band-aids and handed it to Norm. "Did you see the news this morning?"

"Wouldn't miss it! Ern, it was a D5! Our D5, I would-"

A shrill voice interrupted their conversation. "My D5, you mean, right Norman?"

Ernie's head turned with such speed he'd probably feel whiplashed later. "Bernadette." He managed to stutter out.

Bernadette didn't look at him, she was actively not looking at him. "I actually got an interview later today." she said, slowly blinking her eyes and moving her shoulder spike suggestively at Norm.

Ernie's heart fluttered and dropped at the same time. Bernadette only had eyes for Norm...Not him. He wiggled his toes, in a desperate attempt to gain her attention but by the time he got out of his stupor both Bernadette and Norm were sitting behind their laptops.

The bell had rang, and it was once again time to take place in his cubicle and start working.

If you asked Bernadette about **perspective** ,

she'd tell you to bugger off,

hows' that for perspective?


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 - The Borders of New Orleans**

 **by Ally Haert**

 _Ginger trembled as she stared down the muzzle of the revolver calmly pointing at her face. Her fear was a living thing, a terrible beast that was currently gnawing her heart and trying to escape her ribs. Her hands were cold and her feet were numb. She didn't want to die, oh god, she didn't want to die._

 _She backed away slowly, tears running down her face._

" _O-Oliver, please! D-don't shoot-"_

 _The man shook his head sadly but the gun in his hands didn't waver._

" _Sorry, darlin'. It's nothing personal," his hand tightened and Ginger's eyes widened so much it hurt._

" _Please!" Ginger screamed. "I-"_

" _I have my orders," the man's eyes hardened and he slowly shook his head. And something in Ginger knew._

 _This was it. She was going to die here._

 _Oh god._

 _She wanted to hold her babies again._

 _She wanted to run._

 _She wanted to-_

 _The evening rang with a single, deafening shot._

~-/-~

Renée stood under the eaves of the bistro, watching the doors of the jazz club across the street with a hooded gaze.

She needed to time this perfectly, couldn't be off by even a second.

There was once a time when blending into a crowd had been second nature, an easy offhand thing she did without effort. It was a skill, honed through years of practice and forged under the careful tutelage of ninjas.

She remembered the ease, the logic, the theory. But something about it all was still incomplete, like trying to remember a dream after waking. The details became fuzzy and muddled, the theory impossible to put into practice.

It was frustrating in a truly unique way to remember the emotion and the _feeling_ of knowledge, all while the knowledge remained outside her grasp.

If only she could still remember how to shadow walk. If only she could still mould chakra. If only she could remember how to set a proper trap. If only she could walk with the Cat Step, silent and unnoticed. If only-

A skinny boy turned the corner, pony-tail swinging with each jaunty stride. On his shoulder, an inconspicuous brown satchel.

Renée straightened, body tensing. She pressed her back harder against the brick wall behind her and suddenly wished for something better than a newsstand to hide behind. It had seemed large enough to hide her at the time, but what if he saw her? This _couldn't_ go wrong.

Across the street he stopped before walking into the club, turning to wave at a man seated outside the door. The two men chatted. Renée watched their lips move, squinting. _If only she could still lip read._ Another thing to add to her never-ending to-do list.

Renée found herself holding her breath.

The boy finally broke away and walked through the door. Renée let her breath out in a gusty sigh and started counting in her head. First in English, until she reached 50. She switched to Japanese, the words coming slower and a bit clumsier in her mind. She was up to 98 (in Cajun) when the boy exited. _Without_ the satchel.

Renée leaned forward, eyes narrowing. _Gotcha._

~-/-~

Renée had spent a lot of time trying to come up with ideas on how to intercept this drop.

They started out the same; first she'd formulate the plan, then she'd start to obsess over the details. Finally she'd discard the plan when it had too many flaws for her to safely salvage it.

Walk in through the front door? Too noticeable, too many unknown elements, too much risk. _Nope._

Break in during off hours? There _were_ no off hours, the place was patrolled, she didn't know about the internal security put in place. _Nope._

Intercept the satchel en route to or from the club? She would need to overpower an individual three times her height and four times her weight, and she'd have to do it without the aid of physical conditioning, chakra, jutsus, seals, or abilities. All while remaining unidentified. _Nope._

The sad truth was that she _hadn't_ been able to come up with a foolproof plan. It had been different, in Konoha. She wasn't really sure why, but she had theories. She remembered how it felt to wake up in a different body, subject to a new biology.

Perhaps it was something to do with the Nara genes. She'd thought it more than once – that being blessed with a Nara brain had given her something extra, a little boost that hadn't been there before.

For a time, she had felt _diminished_ waking up as Renée. It was hard not to, especially with prolonged exposure to Ginger. But just as her soul had adapted and grown under the careful guidance of the Nara genes, so too had her new mind taken a surprising turn.

Empathy and chakra sensing in a world that to all of her previous knowledge had been chakra dead.

And there were other times, times when she thought she felt something more. A shadow calling to her, in the corner of her eye. A watchful presence in her mind, reaching out from the dark corners of a room. It never lasted and despite almost two years of continual effort, she still had no ability to show for it.

In the end, it did no good dwelling on the past.

She was on Earth. She was Renée. And she didn't have _time_ to come up with the perfect plan.

It might not have been the Nara way to do things, but perhaps it was the LeDoux way.

~-/-~

Renée walked down the cobbled street, head down and eyes forward.

At five years old she had perfected the fine art of trailing just a few steps behind people. If she timed it right, other pedestrians would walk past without a second glance. She had to walk close enough to look like she belonged to the people in front of her, but far enough that she didn't draw their attention.

She walked past rows of brick storefronts until she found a break in between. She broke off from the foot traffic, turning sharply into the mouth of the shadowed alley. It was a damp, narrow walkway, barely wide enough for one person to walk down.

Renée had been to many places, but _none_ of them had adequately prepared her for the strange way that New Orleans sprawled. Entire city blocks were often filled with grand, brick buildings built right up into each other, touching and meeting in an endless facade. The breaks between the shops were a maze-like web of alleys, claustrophobic and confusing.

Behind and between the buildings were the real streets of the city.

The roads were paved with cobblestone, worn and shoddy. The narrow walkways would widen at random, breaking open into beautiful gated verandas and courtyards, little hidden pockets of greenery and life. They twisted round, meeting and parting without any semblance of order until one could get so far removed from the main streets that the sound of cars and people would fade.

Renée walked them without hesitation, slipping past wrought iron gates and flitting through the scant few patches of sunlight that broke through the high buildings all around. Down there in the alleys and back roads, everything seemed cloaked in an eternal twilight.

Slowly working her way back south, Renée turned one last corner and ducked behind a cement patio with a large tin trash can. She spent a moment squatting there, waiting until her breath evened out and calmed after her long trek.

Somewhere on the next alley over she could hear a loud domestic scene, male and female voices raised in argument. Renée waited for the sound to fade and after a few minutes and a couple of slammed doors, it did.

Stretching up to peer over the trash can cautiously, Renée looked at the back door of the jazz club.

Somewhere beyond that door, past the kitchens and up the stairs, a brown satchel was waiting.

Two years. _Two years._ She had been tracking down the Thieves Guild for _two years._

She could still remember the day Remy was taken, could remember every sickening, stomach churning detail from the way that Ginger had screamed and fled, to the vile concoction of emotions churning inside the kidnappers.

And that image, burned in her brain. Her baby brother, screaming, wailing, _pleading_ for her, hand raised in one final attempt to connect with her. Then gone.

Renée had lost herself in so many ways.

Waking up in a new life, with a new family. Losing her brother. Losing her strength, her identity. Losing her direction.

It wasn't until that fateful Halloween that she had finally, truly understood-

 _No one was going to save her this time around._

There was no academy to attend, no team to rely on. Renée was on her own.

It was terrifying and liberating in equal measure.

With no structure in place and no almighty "plot" looming in her future, she had thought to forge her own destiny. And right now, that destiny included Remy. With her. _Always._

Chasing down leads on his location had been pretty much impossible when she was younger. It always came down to the same frustrating reality – she was too _young_.

Too young to wander the streets alone, too young to gather information, too small to even _reach the fucking door handles_ sometimes.

After too many failed attempts to count, she had spent the better part of her time training. Short of drastic, irreversible measures, there was nothing else she _could_ do.

Her skills hadn't improved, not as much as she would have wanted.

But the older she got the more she felt in tune with her body, young though it still was. It was right around the following Cinco de Mayo – the spring after that ill fated Halloween – when Renée saw him again.

It was only for a moment, just a glimpse of his face through the pressing crowds. Ginger was holding her tightly (she'd always been paranoid about crowds after that Halloween) and Renée hadn't been able to break away. She'd only had time to see his face, to widen her eyes in shocked recognition, to meet his startled gaze.

Then he was gone.

Renée connected the dots after that. That man, with the brown hair and the dopey look on his face, he was _following_ them. Following Ginger.

He knew them somehow. And most important of all – _he knew where Remy was._

It was a dangerous game of cat and mouse after that. Renée pushed her limits, always on alert, always breaking away from her geriatric babysitter Mrs La Velle during Ginger's long day shifts.

How far would the men – for it was _more_ than just the one man now – follow her into town? How long would they trail her, always dozens of yards behind, always ducking away out of sight.

What would they allow her to do?

It reminded her painfully of a sunny blond boy she'd known, once upon a time. The way she started causing trouble, the way she avoided her pursuers.

It proved better training than sitting on her porch, practicing her chakra.

She learned the city, learned the patterns and the ebbs and flows of it.

She started picking up the languages, too. English of course, Cajun and Creole, and sometimes even a few words or phrases in Spanish.

She practiced walking with her sight cast down, learned how to avoid a grown-up's gaze, how to hide her unnatural eyes behind the fringe of her hair.

She practiced conning stupid tourists out of their stupid money.

She busked with other street urchins, tapping her feet along to the rhythmic street jazz spilling out of every door.

Her days (and some of her nights) were spent lost in a dazzling kaleidoscope of vibrant southern culture. Sometimes it was like the whole world was a living breathing thing, and this one city had its finger on the pulse until she could stand on the edge of town, where the bayou met the stately southern manors, and look down on the sprawling lights of the Big Easy and she could _hear_ the world's heart beating around her.

She began to notice patterns in the men that tailed her.

They never crossed into certain places in the city. At first it seemed like a fluke. After the third or fourth time, she noticed that they started to steer her away from the boundaries of those areas, like invisible lines lay across New Orleans, lines she learned through trial and error.

She began to draw a map in her head and places where the Thieves never followed stood out in bright, highlighted patches.

She always kept an eye out for that first young man, with his brown hair and his bewildered expression, but he never made rotation as her tail again. Renée's working theory was that he had been pulled off the assignment after she had recognized him, all those months before.

It took her a while, but eventually she even put a name to them. The Thieves Guild.

A _guild_. What did that even mean, anyway? Were they some kind of...thief business venture? Thieves for hire, maybe?

The men themselves were wrapped in mystery and Renée ran into dead end after dead end trying to track them down. Mailboxes in front of empty, boarded up houses. Singers and bartenders who had mysteriously moved away or vanished. One notable newspaper ad in the Sunday paper, a coded message asking for a meeting with a man named "Jean".

All roads that eventually died out.

It was infuriating.

Renée had eyes on the city in the way only a child can. That is to say, _completely_ and _invasively_. She had wandered and watched and _learned_ this city and one thing was clear: The Thieves Guild was _here._

How could such a large, notorious group stay shrouded in such perfect secrecy? Even the "hidden" villages had been a colloquialism, their locations more or less a public secret. And _those_ were villages of supernatural, fire breathing _ninja._

How could these mere humans be so hard to find?

In the end, it all came down to communication.

Food, transportation, housing. All the avenues that Renée tried to use to ferret out the Thieves had always fallen flat.

But _communication_ couldn't be hidden. If these were criminals for _hire,_ they couldn't remain completely separate from their clients. There _had_ to be a way to hire them.

Which led to here. The brown satchel. Renée knew it was a drop point. After tireless searching, it was the only one she'd been able to find.

She _knew,_ the way she knew that Ginger was never going to be a good mother, the way she knew that she'd never stop hunting for Remy, she _knew_ that she wouldn't stumble across another drop.

This was it.

This was her _one_ chance to trace her way back to the Thieves Guild and then she would- she would-

Okay, so she hadn't gotten that far.

But _finding_ Remy had to come before anything else. One thing at a time.

It was starting to darken in the alley behind the jazz club. Renée stretched her legs one after the other, rubbing some life back into them. She had to time this just right. If she waited too long, it would be evening and her presence in the crowds would be far too noticeable, but if she went in too early there wouldn't be enough of a crowd to blend in _with._

Her first plan had been to simply follow the messenger back to the Thieves themselves, but after a lot of anxious deliberating, she had decided against it.

There was no guarantee that the little brown satchel would be taken directly back to wherever it was they were keeping Remy and there was considerable risk that she would be discovered if she followed the man.

Her final plan had come to her in a fit of inspiration only a few nights ago. She hadn't worked out the kinks and fine details, but there just wasn't time.

The drop was going to be picked up _today_ and then it would move, on to the next location, lost forever.

She stuffed her hand into her pocket, tiny fist closing around the smooth pebble within. She looked up at the small patch of blue sky between the rooftops far above.

The clock was ticking.

Hopping down from her perch, she crept towards the back door and quietly slipped inside.

~-/-~

Getting through the kitchen was easy, all noise and chaos and bustle.

Crossing the dimly lit dining area was a bit more dodgy. Renée kept her face forward, eyes down, walking with purpose. It was amazing how much body language could influence people. Renée found that if she just put a little effort into looking like she knew where she was going, like she _belonged_ there, people wouldn't give her a second glance.

Renée ducked into a padded booth near the back wall, just in time for a Thief to walk past her.

She curled in a tight ball, one trembling hand clenched tightly against her chest. She tried making herself smaller, and waited under the table until she felt like she could breath again. When the Thief never came back, never pulled her out from her hiding place and tossed her to the curb, she shuffled out from her spot and slyly checked the room.

All clear.

Up the stairs, quieter now. Renée pulled on every single memory she could. She had no muscle memory to guide her steps, no deeply ingrained ninja techniques to fall back on. The sweat that was pouring down her temples and stinging her eyes was very real.

She kept quiet through the power of vigilance. She was in mission mode now, and nothing would distract her. Door after door was checked, quietly in, quietly out.

Some were bedrooms, some looked like dusty storage spaces that hadn't been opened in ages. Renée opened one door to reveal a richly furnished office and her heart soared with hope. She crept inside and scoured the room, top to bottom.

She had a scare when footsteps drew close outside her door, but the footsteps traveled on and the moment passed.

Renée wanted to cry. She didn't. She moved on.

The next room was full of shelves with all kinds of odds and ends, but none of them drew her attention. It was the brown satchel hanging from the back of a chair a few mere feet in front of her, that arrested her attention.

She didn't have much time left, she would have to do this fast.

Renée took the pebble from her pocket and clasped it gently between her hands, closing her eyes and clearing her mind.

She stretched her senses as far as they would reach, past herself. She touched gingerly upon the chakra in the air with a brief flare and felt as if it turned its gaze upon her.

She hated doing this, didn't think she'd ever get used to it. Chakra here felt alive, purposeful and sentient. It never felt as if she was tapping into a power source. It felt as if she was _consuming_ something, something with intent.

It made her skin crawl.

With every single ounce of strength in her mind and soul, she pushed past her revulsion and dug, deep down against her core, pulling until she felt the strain of her coils as they spluttered and wobbled to life.

She furrowed her brow and bit her lips, sweat dripping down her flushed face. She couldn't maintain this, it was too difficult. It felt like she was arguing with the chakra, fighting to make it submit.

Her heart was starting to race now, strained as if coming down off a terrible adrenaline high.

Through sheer willpower she finally summoned it – the tiniest spark of chakra. It flared, rushing down her arms quickly. _Too quickly!_ Renée thought with panic.

Her hands tightened around the pebble and she pushed, pushed with all her might. She could feel all the blood in her body pounding away, racing madly through her veins. The chakra ended at her fingertips, a fluttering puff of warmth, barely there.

Renée willed it to move, pressing her last reserves of focus and strength upon the pitiful energy, and at last it obeyed, rushing into the smooth stone and latching on.

Renée wobbled on her feet, afraid she was about to pass out. The moment passed but her vision never cleared, blurry and dim. On drunken legs she stepped up to the chair and dropped the rock into the brown bag.

 _Bingo._

She might not have any jutsu down, and she might be tiny and weak, but she _could_ still sense chakra.

It had been so neat, once it had finally come to her. She could sense _chakra._ If she could figure out a way to tag the bag, she could let the drop go off without a hitch and follow it to its destination when the coast was all clear.

It was an elegant solution, with minimal risk to her.

She didn't need to steal anything, didn't need to tail anyone. She could wait, bide her time, figure out her next plan. And with any luck, this bag would make it somewhere useful, somewhere that would lead her to Remy.

One thing at a time.

The pebble settled safely into the bag and Renée took a shaky step back. Her eyelids scraped against her eyes like burning sheets of sandpaper, and inside her skull her brain was pounding. Renée felt on the verge of collapse, but she couldn't stop, she wasn't done. Not yet.

Ignoring the blossoming migraine, Renée called up her chakra sense once more, reaching out. She could feel it, her tiny piece of chakra, nestled deep inside the brown bag.

She'd be able to find it later – follow it, even.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

Renée tried to whirl around to face the voice and ended up over-spinning, falling clumsily to the floor. She barked her knees, head swimming. Her eyes focused on the figure and her throat constricted in fear.

It was the Thief from downstairs. _Shit._

He crossed the room in two angry strides and snatched the bag up, stepping over her shaking body in his haste. He rifled through the contents frantically, counting papers and envelopes.

 _No, no, no,_ Renée wanted to cry, to scream. _Don't look, you can't-_

He drew the rock out, turned it over to examine the bottom. Renée held her breath. The world stood still for a moment. Then with a dismissive flick of his wrist, he tossed the pebble aside and shut the bag.

Renée was going to vomit. Her whole body was shaking and she knew she was moments from passing out.

 _No._

This _couldn't_ be happening.

A wretched sob tore from her lips, finally drawing the Thief's gaze. He opened his mouth, clearly about to launch into a massive scolding when he got a better look at Renée and froze.

"Mais, peeshwank, you don' look so good. Are you-"

Renée pitched forward, out cold.

~-/-~

Renée blinked muzzily against the darkness, head pounding. It felt like her whole throat was on fire, like her eyes were swollen and dry, like every drop of moisture in her whole body had been roasted clean out of her.

She tried to sit up, digging her elbows into the mattress and grunting. She was in her and Ginger's room, back in their apartment. The bedroom door stood ajar and soft voices were drifting in.

"-had no idea. She always stays with Eunice. I thought...I thought I was doing right by her."

"You couldn't have known. We were told not to interfere."

"Interfere? Don't give me that shit, Cameron! She's _five!"_

"Ginge, have you _met_ your daughter? I've seen her do things that-"

"Fuck you! It's always the same bullshit with you, Cam. She's just a child! You should have _told_ me she was out on her own all day. Jesus Christ, what, did you think I was _letting_ her just wander around town, all by herself? Is that it? Ginger, the bad mom all over again?"

"No- that's- you're not listening to me!"

Renée tried to swing her legs down but they wouldn't obey, too weak and shaky. The old mattress squeaked loudly and the voices both fell silent for a moment before continuing on in hushed tones.

Renée tried to call up chakra, hoping to enhance her hearing, but her head protested with a sharp spike of pain that made Renée hunch over and cradle it in her hands with a grimace.

After a few seconds, the pain ebbed and Renée strained to hear the rest of the conversation.

"...not like that. She's a good kid, Cameron. She's just...bored. She's so _smart_. Honestly, I don't know where she gets it from," Ginger's laugh sounded watery and tearful.

There was a soft shuffling sound, then Cameron replied, "She broke into a drop point, Ginger."

"So?" Ginger sounded defiant.

"You don't get it. It's _bad._ If she'd compromised the identity of even _one_ of the Thieves' clients it would have been out of our hands. Guild law is absolute. The clients must be protected."

There was a heavy pause, before Ginger murmured something too softly for Renée to hear.

"It _means_ she would have been killed."

Renée fell back against the pillow, staring numbly at the ceiling. Ginger's crying drifted hazily at the edge of her awareness. At some point the two adults stopped talking and the front door closed.

Renée lay in the darkness, body wracked with pain and spirit utterly broken.

 _Now what._

~-/-~

The summer passed into fall.

Renée never wandered anymore. She spent her days in a smelly old woman's apartment, covered in pets.

Ginger took less and less shifts, which made those long days a bit more bearable.

She hardly slept, hardly spoke, hardly ate.

Ginger noticed the change in her and fretted in all the most useless ways. She started bringing home hideous, girly outfits, started trying to ply Renée with dolls and toys.

Renée couldn't even pretend for Ginger's sake.

She lay in bed each night, staring at the ceiling. In her mind, one brother long gone, brown hair in a spiky ponytail, eternal smirk forever out of reach. When she closed her eyes, she now saw another. Red hair, dark eyes, soft heart.

Each night seemed to take him further and further away.

~-/-~

Fall came.

Ginger was trying so hard to make a connection with her, but it was never meant to be. Renée couldn't force love to happen and she found herself growing tired of the woman hanging around all the time. And she _had_ been around, even more than before.

Renée thought about holidays. Thought about family. Ginger tried cheering her up by decorating the apartment. Garlands of gold and red hung around the window sills and the doorways, mimicking the seasons colors. A new record player took up residence in the corner of their living room and Ginger bought a couple of Louis Armstrong records. Smooth jazz trumpet drifted lazily across their small apartment most nights.

Outside on the streets below, the stately oil lamps were lit earlier and earlier every night. Leaves were changing, drifting down to create a crunchy carpet underfoot, slender branches reaching towards the sky, bare once more.

The rain came more often.

Renée would sit and watch it, running down the windows in little rivers and would think about how all water flowed to the sea.

~-/-~

Renée sat back on the couch, book propped open on the coffee table in front of her. They had furniture now. Real, proper furniture.

She gazed at the book in front of her with unseeing eyes. Behind her, Ginger bustled fussily around the kitchen, muttering and cursing, making an unholy mess of things, no doubt.

It wasn't their first Christmas together, but it was one of the first that they'd had money, and consequently, _gifts_ to look forward to. Ginger had been working at the Diner the last two years and Renée had always spent the holiday with Aunt Laura.

Renée used to wonder where the rest of her family was.

Ginger never talked about it and Renée never brought it up, but it loomed in her mind all the same. Ginger had to come from _somewhere._

"Almost done, chére!" Ginger called breathily.

Renée hummed in response, mind drifting. She was in no particular rush to open any of the gifts waiting for her. No doubt it would be useless, infantile rubbish.

She was going to _love_ being an adult again. Only a little bit more than a decade and she'd be there. Renée sighed. She seriously _sucked_ at cheering herself up.

Ginger swept in and started setting dishes on the coffee table in front of Renée, and at a motion from her mother's full hands, she swept the book up and set it aside.

The Christmas feast spread out before them in all its humble glory.

Arms free, Ginger stood there and seemed to search Renée's face expectantly for a moment. Renée tried not to meet her gaze, tried to pretend her mother wasn't standing there.

Things had been strained between them lately.

Ginger didn't know what was wrong with Renée, didn't know how to fix it. All she knew for certain was that somehow, some _way_ , she was failing _miserably_ as a parent.

The crux of it was Renée didn't know how to deal with her either.

Renée had never been very talented at social niceties, even less so when it involved lying or awkward things like _emotions_ and _feelings_. Her new empathic skills only muddled things further, sending mixed signals until all Renée wanted was to draw back, to escape all contact and build up her walls into a safe cocoon, far from the world and its chaos.

Whatever Ginger was looking for in Renée's face, she never found it. Forcing a smile and faking a bit of cheer, she said, "I'll just grab the dressing and then we can say grace, alright chére?"

Renée suffered through the meal with minimal effort on her part. The food wasn't half bad. Anytime Ginger broke from her steady stream of chatter to ask her daughter a question, Renée would lift a bite to conveniently occupy her mouth. Ginger grew depressed, dark mood spilling over and blackening the atmosphere even further.

Ginger seemed to perk up once the meal was finished, rushing off to the bedroom with poorly concealed excitement.

She returned with a gaily wrapped box, no larger than a book, wrapped in garish pink paper and topped with a ridiculous bow. She walked toward Renée with a certain gravitas that Renée didn't feel was deserved, treating the present she bore as if it were _the_ original frankincense and myrrh.

"This is from me, Renée. Merry Christmas, sweetheart," Ginger held it out, chest positively bursting with pride and elation. Renée could feel the bright starburst of her mother's emotions battering against her mental shields, pushing back her own dark mood.

Renée reached for it and allowed herself a small amount of hope. It looked like it was a book. Perhaps Ginger had actually gotten her something interesting? Renée ripped the paper away until the insides were revealed. She froze in shock.

Next to her, Ginger was smiling so wide you could see all her front teeth, "Well?"

Renée couldn't speak.

In her hands she held a necklace, draped elegantly in a soft velvet case. Was that a _real_ emerald?!

"Is this..." Renée couldn't finish the question, couldn't even form the words.

Ginger threw her head back, pealing with laughter, "You love it! I knew you'd love it. The stone reminded me of your eyes." She was sitting down next to Renée, reaching an arm out to give her a hug.

Renée ducked out of the arm, backing away slowly, and Ginger frowned.

"Chére?" Ginger's voice was uncertain. The silence dragged on, ratcheting up the tension in the room. Renée still hadn't dropped the necklace, holding it up in trembling hands.

"Is everything alr-"

" _How much?"_ Renée's voice was soft. Ginger hesitated, uncertain.

"I...what? Sweetheart, what's gotten into you?" Ginger made to reach for Renée again, forcing the girl to back up a step further.

Renée finally lifted her head to meet her mother's gaze and the look of fury made Ginger stiffen in shock.

"How much did this cost?" Renée held the necklace up in a tiny fist, tears of rage gathering in the corners of her eyes.

"Renée! That is _none_ ofyour business, young lady."

"And that!" Renée whirled around to point at the record player, "How much did _that_ cost?"

" _Renée_!"

"And the new clothes, and the new pots and pans!" Renée was shouting, tiny voice squeaking furiously. "How much, Ginger?!"

"Mom _!_ My _name_ is _Mom!"_ Ginger's face was flushed with anger, voice rising to match. How _dare_ her daughter behave so ungratefully? It was one thing to show disinterest in a gift, it was another thing to thumb your nose at all notion of manners and _yell_ at your parent over one.

"No," Renée looked poleaxed, hand slowly dropping to her side. All at once the thunder seemed to leave her in the wake of a new epiphany. "No, that's the wrong question..."

"Renée, you go to your room _right now._ "

" _How,"_ Renée breathed slowly, "The correct question is _how. How_ did you pay for everything?"

The color drained from Ginger's face.

The two stood in a face-off and the air between them fairly hummed with electricity.

"Y-you, you shouldn't speak to me that way," Ginger looked wild, "I'm y-your mother-"

"You've been taking less shifts at work-"

"Go to your room."

"So how have you been paying for it?"

" _Go to your room."_

Renée leaned forward, tiny face contorted in an ugly sneer, "Are you turning tricks again?"

 _Slap!_

Ginger's hand was still raised in the air, as if poised for another strike.

Renée's cheek was warmed with pain, ears ringing and eyes watering. She turned to regard Ginger coldly, and something in her judgmental gaze made Ginger snap.

"How _dare_ you judge me, you ungrateful little- little-... I've been working my _ass_ off to make a better life for us! How _dare_ you accuse me of- of-...Go to your _ROOM!"_ Ginger could barely speak, the words tumbling out of her in her temper.

"Then how did you pay for it!" Renée roared right back.

" _The Thieves gave it to me!"_ Ginger towered over Renée, words echoing off the ceiling and filling the silence that drew out after.

"What?" Renée shrank down, eyes wide. She didn't look like a hateful little demon anymore. She looked like a terrified five year old girl.

"I- I-" Ginger's hand came up to cover her mouth, like she could somehow push the words back in. Ginger fell back against the couch absently, eyes glazing over. "They said...they said you were wandering the streets. But there was nothing I could do about it. I had to keep working, we needed the money."

Renée was suspended in place, caught up in the horrifying confession with a numb detachment.

"So they offered. They said they could help. It's...we needed it," Ginger looked pleadingly at Renée, terrified.

"We needed it," Ginger's voice wasn't anything more than a whisper.

Renée dropped the emerald necklace. It clattered against the floor, sounding so much like the end.

"You sold him. You _sold_ my brother," Renée's face was a picture of absolute betrayal.

Ginger sobbed loudly, shaking her head in vehement protest, " _No, no it wasn't- it's not-"_

Renée walked out the front door and didn't look back.

~-/-~

Ginger broke the record player. She smashed it into a thousand, million pieces.

She tore down the Christmas tree in the corner, screaming at it in pure, bestial rage.

She picked up her brand new copper bottom pot and hurled it against the wall. Her neighbor started banging on the ceiling, signaling their displeasure.

She tore. She fought. She screamed the walls down.

In her animal fury, a flash of sequin caught her eye. She turned round and bent over her purse, her shiny _, glamorous_ purse. How dare it sit there, bright and cheerful? How dare it mock her pain! With a wail of temper she hurled it into the wall and it burst at the seams, contents exploding out like confetti.

Ginger fell to her knees, sobbing.

And right in front of her, a business card fluttered softly to the floor.

~-/-~

Renée tore down the empty streets, feet taking her further and further down country lanes, away from the city. She crested a small hill and fell to the ground, panting out sobs.

Her brother, her baby brother. Sold. Sold for a record player and some fucking jewelry.

Alone except for the jackdaws and the cicadas, Renée lay down under a bare magnolia tree and wept.

~-/-~

Across town, Remy bounced on his Uncle Oliver's knee, laughing happily. He was surrounded by family and it was finally Christmas! And his belly was full and there were so many new toys and-

His heart gave a mighty lurch.

Remy cried out, falling forward into his Uncle's arms.

His family gathered round making sounds of concern.

Without knowing why, an unbearable wave of grief swept over the little boy's soul and he began to cry.

Over his head, Uncle Oliver and Jean-Luc shared a look.

~-/-~

Ginger pounded her fists against the door.

Had there been anyone in the streets, she surely would have caused a scene.

Mascara had dried in ugly rivulets down her cheeks. Her feet were bare against the stone paving and her dress was utterly thrashed. More than anything else, the desperate look on her face betrayed her state of mind.

She beat the door, kicking it until it rattled in its frame.

"Jean-Luc! Jean-Luc you come out this instant!"

Across the street, under the shadow of a low archway, a man stood watching Ginger with an appraising gaze. At the mention of Jean-Luc's name, his eyes widened, before narrowing into a glare.

"Jean-Luc, you give me back my baby! I want my boy back right now or I'm calling the po po, you hear me?"

The man's whole body gave a surprised jerk at that. It was _too_ much, he simply couldn't ignore this.

He stepped slowly from the shadows, running a hand through his curly black hair and adjusting his glasses, approaching the frenzied woman on silent feet.

"It's Christmas, darlin', we're closed for the day."

Ginger whirled around at that, eyeing the man angrily, "You one of them? You're a Thief?"

A slight pause, then, "Yes."

"Take me to Jean-Luc _right now!"_ Ginger thrust a finger in the man's face hysterically.

"Ah," he gently pointed her finger down to the side, offering a charming smile. "I'm so sorry, but, as I said before, it's Christmas and Mistah Jean-Luc is busy today."

Ginger lunged, grabbing on to the man's shirt.

" _I want my Remy back._ "

The man's eyes sharpened at that.

He slowly reached up and grabbed her wrist, smiling. "Then you'd better come with me, darlin'."

"Who are you, then?" Ginger followed trustingly as the man linked arms with her and started guiding her away from the silent house front.

Another slight pause, then, "Oliver. I'm Jean-Luc's second in command. The name is Oliver."

~-/-~

Renée wandered back into the apartment. Outside the sun was beginning to set, the day winding down to a close.

She could barely _stand_ it. She was so alone. This wasn't Earth, not the way it should be.

There was chakra and there were empaths and terrifying, horrible monsters on Halloween. And there were Thieves Guilds and brother-stealing men and shallow, honorless women like Ginger.

And she was all alone, no place in any of it.

Powerless.

And tired. So very, very tired.

Renée got all the way to the front door before she noticed anything odd. The door stood ajar and several lifetimes worth of healthy caution made her pause and toe the door open slowly, alert for any trouble.

The apartment was trashed. Utterly destroyed.

Renée blinked at the mess. She screwed her eyes shut and opened them. The mess was still there.

She walked forward slowly, mind trying to absorb the chaos. Nothing they owned had escaped the destruction. Her life, her whole, meager life of five years, lay in rubble around her.

It was just one long nightmare that she couldn't wake up from.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

Was it the Thieves? Had they done this? Or was it someone else? Did someone come here looking for something? Was Ginger dead?

Oh god, should she involve the authorities at this point? What if they were already on their way-

"Renée."

Renée's head snapped up in surprise. Ginger stood in the doorway, tragically disheveled.

"You came back. I'd thought..." Ginger trailed off, a fragile look in her eyes. She slowly walked inside the room and knelt down in front of Renée, reaching out to touch her cheek with a trembling hand. "You came back."

Renée was drained, beyond her emotional limit. She nodded gently, unable to speak.

Ginger hugged her carefully, as if she were afraid Renée would pull away from her at any moment.

"You ran off before I could explain. I was so worried. But it's okay, Mommy's fixing everything. Everything is going to be alright," Ginger was stroking Renée's hair softly, voice soothing, before she pulled back and met Renée's gaze. "I _never_ sold your brother. I would never sell either of you. It's just...the Thieves are powerful and I didn't know what to do. I spent a long time thinking t-that I-"

Renée couldn't move. After everything she'd been through, it was all she could do to hang on to her cracking mental shields. Ginger seemed utterly wrecked, voice choking off before she swallowed and continued.

"I thought that maybe Remy would be happier, away from us. Away from _me._ I'm n-no good at this. I k-keep messing everything up. I know that I-I've done wrong by you. But I finally know, now," Ginger's eyes glowed with fierce purpose and she gripped Renée tightly by the shoulders. "I _know_ that I love you and your brother. And I know how to get him back."

" _What?!"_ Renée gasped, hands flying up to clutch at her mother's arms, heart clenching painfully in her chest.

"I went to one of their houses, Renée, and I met one of their top men. He said that they'll give Remy back to us. Would you like that, chére? We c-could be a family again."

Renée couldn't even speak. The hope growing in her chest was too awful to bear. If this was real-

But this _couldn't_ be real. _Nothing_ had gone right in this new life of hers. She wanted to doubt, wanted to question, wanted to adhere to her jaded skepticism.

But...what if?

The two of them were weeping openly. Renée met her mother's gaze and nodded.

"What do we need to do, Mommy?"

~-/-~

Across town, Jean-Luc slipped out of Remy's room, shutting the door softly behind him. It had taken an age to calm his son down. Who knew _what_ the poor boy had been picking up on, but halfway through a day that should have invited nothing but joy, he'd spiraled downwards, sharply falling into a pit of inconsolable despair.

Calming him down and settling him back into the Christmas spirit had been an impossible task. Eventually, Jean-Luc had just set his sights on soothing the boy.

They rocked in the dark nursery until Remy drifted unhappily to sleep.

Oliver was waiting for him. Jean-Luc shook his head with a jerk and made to push past his best friend. He wasn't in the mood to have another discussion about Remy's little "talents" at the moment. He just wanted a stiff drink and a long soak in the shower.

Oliver caught him around the arm, halting his progress with a serious expression. Jean-Luc met his gaze with a slight frown.

"Kitchen?"

Oliver shook his head, "Office."

Jean-Luc's eyebrows rose and he followed Oliver up the stairs. As soon as the office door was shut, Oliver ran a tired hand through his shaggy, blond hair and launched into explanation.

"There are reports coming in from the Acoin Street outpost. They say a woman showed up several hours ago, banging on the door and looking for you."

"Did they make contact?" Jean-Luc was puzzled why this little incident had traveled so far up the Guild food chain.

"No, but Jean," Oliver's expression was stern and the pause before his next words were filled with a deep intensity. "They said it was a woman, asking for you, screaming about how you'd taken her _son."_

Jean-Luc, very carefully, did not react. "Did she take the money? I thought she took the money..."

"Jean..."

"She was a junkie, back in the day. I bet you she blew all her money on dope and now she wants to shake us for some more cash."

"Jean."

"We can afford it, just pay her off again."

"Jean!" Oliver's shout brought Jean-Luc to a halt. He continued, softer than before, "You can't keep making this go away. You need to think about-"

"I _can't_ kill the mother of my son, Oliver," Jean-Luc tried to sound convincing and failed.

"I'm not saying you need to, but you can't keep pretending like this will just go away if you ignore it. She talked about contacting the _police,_ Jean," Oliver's eyes were full of pity, but his words were unrelenting.

Jean-Luc closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Oliver waited patiently. When Jean-Luc opened his eyes once more, his expression was clear and full of authority.

"Right. It's time. Oliver, I want you and Cameron to go pick up Ginger and bring her in. I hear the lady's looking for me and you know how I feel about keeping a lady waiting."

~-/-~

Ginger explained the whole meeting to Renée, who listened with growing unease.

Ginger had met the tall man named 'Oliver', who was apparently Jean-Luc's second in command. The man had asked an awful lot of questions about Remy and Renée, which Ginger had answered within reason. He seemed particularly interested in their eyes.

When Ginger had told him that she was ready to take her son back by force, if necessary, he had buckled.

But the Thieves cared for Remy and wouldn't part with him if it meant danger for the little boy, or so Oliver had told her. They would require proof of some kind, proof that she had reformed her ways and could be a good mother to her son.

It was too easy. Renée didn't like it.

"How do we prove you're a good mommy?" Renée and Ginger sat on the floor next to each other, backs against the cupboards in the kitchen.

Ginger smiled tiredly, "Oh that? That's simple. We just show 'em you."

Renée felt her heart drop and bit the rejection back that was on the tip of her tongue. Ginger continued on, blissfully unaware, "You come with me, chére, and you tell 'em how good you have it. They'll give Remy back fo sho'," she trailed off, happy look on her face.

"I-"

"Just think- we'll have our little Remy back!" Ginger reached out and patted her knee happily.

"No."

"What?" Ginger turned on her in shock. "What part are you saying no to?"

But Renée didn't have a good answer. _This feels like a set-up_ wouldn't cut it. Renée's head fell against the cupboards with a sigh.

"...Nothing. Where do we meet them?"

~-/-~

Cameron led Oliver up the stairs of the old apartment building, past the long hallway full of neighbor's doors. They came to a stop in front of Ginger's apartment and knocked loudly.

There was a long pause. Oliver gave Cameron a look and Cameron shrugged in confusion before knocking again, louder.

The apartment was silent.

Without a word between the two, Cameron fell back to take point while Oliver leaned over and made quick work of the lock. The door popped open and the two men nudged it wide.

The scene before them made them gape in shock.

Everything, torn to pieces. Furniture, cooking supplies, Christmas decorations...

"What-" Cameron stepped into the apartment, expression dazed, when Oliver grabbed his arm and spun him round.

"Search for any sign of them. I'm going to go see if there's a trail I can follow. Whether or not you find anything, head straight to the nearest safe house and send word. Jean-Luc needs to know that something's gone wrong, that someone may have taken Ginger and Renée."

Cameron nodded mutely, turning back to the apartment with purpose. Oliver was out the door and down the hallway, already gone.

~-/-~

Renée clung tightly to her mother's hand. Her mother...not Ginger, her _mother._

Yesterday she had been alone in this world. But today...today she didn't have to be.

She wanted this to be real.

And for ten minutes, it was.

For ten minutes, they were strolling through the quiet morning streets of New Orleans, headed off to fight for their little Remy. For ten minutes they walked through the silent, winter fog, watching buildings loom suddenly out of the misty gloom, only to disappear from sight as they carried onward.

For ten minutes, Renée allowed herself to believe that things would work out.

But there was no one tailing them from the Thieves Guild this time. And as they wandered up and down streets, weaving their way closer and closer to the meeting place appointed by 'Oliver", Renée came to an awful realization.

They were going beyond the border that the Thieves wouldn't cross.

Renée couldn't ignore it any longer.

Whoever Ginger was going to meet, they weren't from the Guild.

She opened her mouth, about to halt Ginger before they walked any further into the trap, when Renée felt something unmistakable, something she hadn't felt in a lifetime.

 _Killing intent._

It choked her, pressing down on her mind in a miasma of fear.

The culmination of the past twenty-four hours crested over Renée's heart and with a silent snap, the barriers in her mind broke.

 _Killing intent killing intent he was coming he was going to kill her she would die again oh god oh god she didn't want to die-_

Out of the swirling morning mists, a shrouded figure walked toward them. Beside Ginger, Renée was frozen.

Ginger felt a little spike of unease, watching the gloomy figure the man cut against the empty street.

But she pushed it aside. She was going to do right by her babies, for maybe the first time in their lives.

"So, this is your daughter," his voice was smooth and dark, perfectly matching the setting he'd chosen.

A shiver went down Ginger's spine and she stepped a little closer to Renée. She nodded her head sharply and shifted uncomfortably. Wasn't there somewhere they could do this in private? Why hadn't Oliver taken off his hood yet?

Ginger was beginning to foster the first small seeds of doubt when Renée broke out of her grasp and shot off into the swirling mists without warning.

Ginger cried out in alarm, attention swinging fully to her baby girl, "Renée!"

"After her. Bring her in _alive,_ " Oliver barked. Two men materialized from the mists on either side of him, sprinting off in the direction of her child.

Ginger was about to run after when the metallic click of a gun being cocked stopped her.

She watched in confused shock as Oliver pulled a gun from his cloak and aimed it right at her head.

She backed away slowly, tears running down her face.

"O-Oliver, please! D-don't shoot-"

The man shook his head sadly but the gun in his hands didn't waver.

"Sorry, darlin'. It's nothing personal," his hand tightened and Ginger's eyes widened so much it hurt.

"Please!" Ginger screamed. "I-"

"I have my orders," the man's eyes hardened and he slowly shook his head. And something in Ginger knew.

This was it. She was going to die here.

Oh god.

She wanted to hold her babies again.

She wanted to run.

She wanted to-

The evening rang with a single, deafening shot.

Ginger screamed as Oliver fell limply to the ground in front of her. She couldn't stop watching, frozen in shock as a dark pool of liquid spread out across the street underneath his unmoving body.

"Ginger?"

Ginger jolted, whirling around to face the man who stood just behind her. His arms were still slightly raised, gun still pointing toward the limp body on the ground. She blinked at him stupidly.

"You're Ginger, right?"

Ginger nodded, unable to speak.

"Ginger, where's your daughter? Where's Renée?"

"Who are you?" Ginger started backing away in fear.

"Oliver, my name's Oliver. We need to find your daughter. _Now_ ," he didn't wait for her permission. Leaning over, Oliver – the _real_ Oliver – grabbed her hand and forced her into a run.

~-/-~

Renée fled blindly through the fog, animal instinct taking over.

People showed up on her internal radar like warm little blips on the chakra field blanketing the city. Every time one drew close to her she sped up and veered off, doubling back over and under any obstacles in her path until she was hopelessly turned around in the foggy, urban scene.

She couldn't be sure how much time passed, but eventually she could feel the people chasing her closing in. There were several of them, coming from different directions. They seemed to be trying to head her off, clearly intending to trap her between them in the side streets.

Renée dug deep, putting on one last burst of speed. It was on the very last road that she finally recognized where she was. _There was only one street between her and the border of the Thieves territory._

Renée sprinted toward her goal. She could feel her pursuers, hot on her heels. Behind them, even more chakra signatures pinged.

In front of her lay the only hope she had of safety.

 _Maybe her pursuers knew about the invisible boundary. Maybe they wouldn't cross it. Maybe the Thieves would come and rescue her_.

She could hear two sets of running feet behind her, closing in. She didn't stop, didn't even dare to sneak a glance over her shoulder to see how near they really were.

She was almost there.

She turned the last corner and crossed the border, falling to her knees and gulping down huge breaths of air.

And for the first time in her entire five years of life, something finally, _finally_ went in her favor.

The two men stood, at the edge of her vision, half cloaked in the swirling cold. They made no move to draw any closer. _They weren't going to cross the border._

Renée rose on shaky limbs, fear still high in her throat.

The morning was eerily still around them. They lurked there, at the far end of the street, two sinister forms fading in and out of the fog.

Her breath came out in harsh pants, stirring the mist around her face in swirling eddies. She walked backward slowly, eyes never leaving the dark silhouettes at the end of the street.

It was the barest of sounds that made Renée finally turn away from the two men.

There was another figure looming out of the thick fog, long coat billowing out behind him. He walked calmly down the street, trapping Renée in the middle and cutting off all escape.

He stopped a few paces away from her and she finally got a clear look at his face.

Dark hair hung around his shoulders, tied back loosely. Dark brown eyes fixated on the two figures down the street, never glancing in Renée's direction.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath, every spine straightened.

 _The Father of the Thieves had arrived._

~-/-~

Oliver shoved Ginger down the cellar stairs, causing the young woman to stumble on the first few steps. With a furtive glance over his shoulder, he jumped down after.

This was bad. This was very, very _bad._

He was being herded deeper and deeper into Assassin territory, Assassins closing in from three different sides.

He only had seven more rounds and a hunting knife beside that. The woman was a civilian, a complete liability in a fight.

They'd lost the girl, they were probably moments away from capture, and he had no clue if Cameron had ever been able to reach Jean-Luc with his message.

"You shot him," the woman was rocking back and forth on the cement floor by his feet, trembling. "Oh my god, you killed him. He was- he was gonna-"

"He was gonna _shoot_ you, petite. What in the actual _fuck_ were you doing meeting up with an Assassin? What the hell did he promise you?" Oliver hissed angrily, kneeling next to her.

"Assassins," her voice was flat.

"Yes, _Assassins._ Don't tell me-"

"You're Oliver?" her voice was small, afraid.

Oliver paused, regarding her warily. "Yes," he answered slowly. "I'm Oliver. I'm second in command with the Thieves. Cameron - you know Cameron? He's like my... younger brother. Sort of."

Ginger started to shake again, giggling nervously.

" _You're_ Oliver."

Oliver looked at her tremoring lip, her wide, terrified gaze, tears glistening in her eyes. He took it all in and had a moment of realization.

"You...met someone claiming to be me," it wasn't a question.

" _You're Oliver_ ," Ginger's eyes were glazing over and Oliver felt a sharp spike of alarm. Ginger looked like she was on the verge of a meltdown, but he had just murdered an Assassin and they were currently _hiding in the middle of Assassin territory._ "But- but- I followed the address on the card. You're Oliver? But he said…"

Oliver bit his lip, deliberating.

The sound of running feet cut his line of thinking short. Oliver slapped a large hand over her mouth, muffling her shriek.

His hand tightened around the grip of his gun.

The feet ran past.

They weren't stopping.

They weren't coming down the stairs.

Ginger and Oliver didn't dare to breathe until all sounds of footsteps had faded.

"Something's happening," Oliver whispered ominously.

The two of them crouched silently, waiting for something to happen. Ginger could feel her legs beginning to cramp.

She almost screamed on reflex when Oliver squeezed her shoulder. His hand slapped over her mouth again, painfully muffling the sound and she stared at him over the hand, eyes wide and fearful.

He shook his head sternly and released her mouth. "Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed.

"We need to get out of here. Something's happening," Oliver tugged her shirt, pulling her up the cement steps and peeking cautiously onto the street beyond.

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Mais," Oliver's eyes flickered toward her face before turning back to scan the fog. "We were being chased but…"

They entered the street and immediately Oliver grabbed her hand, pulling her into a light jog.

"We're not being followed anymore."

~-/-~

Ginger and Oliver jogged for several minutes before Oliver's steps faltered, then resumed running smoothly. Ginger noticed and squeezed his hand in fright. What _now_?

Oliver grunted, pulling her along at a faster stride.

"We have a tail, again."

Ginger looked wildly over her shoulder, nearly tripping when she saw the hooded figure keeping pace with them.

"Almost there, chére," Oliver's voice was calm and annoyingly steady for the amount of running they'd been doing. "When I say run, you need to sprint as fast as you can and not stop, alright?"

Ginger nodded fearfully.

Oliver didn't voice any of his fears to his traumatized companion.

Because they were being herded again, this time towards the border. The Assassins trailing after them could overtake them easily, but they held back, drifting a hundred yards behind. It wasn't a _tail,_ it was some kind of _escort._

Which begged the question: What were the two of them being escorted to?

" _Run._ "

~-/-~

Renée had no good options.

To her left was a growing crowd of hooded men, bleeding killing intent.

Behind her was sheer brick wall. She could have scaled it using chakra, once upon another lifetime, but right here, right now, it might as well have been an impenetrable barrier seal.

In front of her a stood seamless row of homes with white, picket fences and cheerful mailboxes.

And to her right stood a man from her nightmares.

She remembered his face, his emotions. She could never forget.

 _Jean-Luc LeBeau._

Father of the Thieves.

She couldn't fight. She couldn't run.

As the Cajuns say: _Voila merde._

"We've got no quarrel with you, Thief. Give us the little lady and we'll be on our way," a hooded figure broke away from the pack, deep voice carrying loudly.

All around the street, bodies were shifting and tensing, something deep inside of everyone present responding to the threat of violence in the man's voice.

Renée sank to her knees and curled up into a ball. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to turn into a shadow and vanish.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to cry.

"Homme, think _very_ carefully before you break our peace treaty," Jean-Luc's voice was deep and calm.

The hooded man's voice had reached inside to that deep, primitive level of the brain and merely brushed it, but Jeann-Luc's voice seemed to reach every single flight instinct and flip them on, flooding Renée with adrenaline and making all the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

She watched as the hooded men froze and stiffened.

Jean-Luc calmly walked until he stood next to Renée.

He still hadn't even looked at her.

Jean-Luc opened his mouth, then shut it just as quickly, teeth clicking audibly.

Out of the ranks of hooded figures came a man with a cane, like a spectre of evil summoned straight from Hell. Around him the hooded men parted in deference. Renée curled tighter into a ball, wanting to disappear.

Because the man with the cane was worse than anyone she'd ever felt. His emotions rose up like a stench, choking out the sun and smothering her in a poison cloud of despair. It was anger and hate, and like dying all over again.

He walked calmly toward them, cane clicking a soft counterpoint against the cobbled street.

No one spoke.

He stopped a few paces away from Jean-Luc and Renée, expression placid.

Perhaps it was the weight of the whole day taking its toll on her mental shields. Perhaps it was her desperate desire for reprieve from this nightmare.

Renée summoned all of the calm, all of the peace she could muster, latched onto the man with the cane, and _pushed._

She'd only influenced people a few times with her empathy in the past, and it was always before she'd perfected building up her mental shields. It was strange taking a manufactured feeling, throwing it at another person and watching it stick.

But when she threw calm and peace at the man with the cane, she watched in horror as it slid off, like water on oil. His mind was an inky pit of evil, too vast to be touched by her gift.

He didn't even flinch.

"Mistah LeBeau, so good to see you again. And how are things on your side of town?"

Renée closed her eyes as the man spoke, swallowing back the ball of fear in her throat.

Jean-Luc growled, actually growled, before he schooled his face into a calm expression. "My man. You have him."

"Ah yes, the behemoth," the man brought his cane in front of him and leaned against it, the metal serpent's head gleaming brightly.

"Raymond..." Jean-Luc's voice held a hint of warning.

"I'm afraid we're going to have a bit of a problem, you see, because earlier this morning your _behemoth_ was found inside Assassin territory. _Killing_ my man."

Jean-Luc twitched, but didn't respond.

"So you see," Raymond trailed off, gesturing vaguely with one hand.

"My mom," Renée said it so quietly that she thought they would miss it.

Both men turned down to look at her, as if finally noticing she was there.

"Your mother?" Raymond said curiously at the same moment that Jean-Luc gestured sharply at her and barked, " _Don't._ "

Renée cowered, falling silent once more.

Raymond tilted his head, reminding her of a reptile. Renée looked down at her knees, unable to hold his gaze, and when she didn't expand Raymond feigned a moment of realization.

"Ah yes, the red-head. Is that your mommy, little lady?"

Jean-Luc's legs blocked Renée's vision as he stepped in front of her, shielding her from view.

"I want them, Assassin. _Both_ of them," his voice was cold.

Raymond's eyes were calculating, but after a long pause he raised his hand in a beckoning gesture.

Three figures broke rank and started walking down the street towards them.

Two men and one very ginger woman.

Jean-Luc looked like he was vibrating with repressed emotion, but he held his tongue as they approached. When they were near enough that they could make out features through the thick fog, Ginger took one look at the scene and gasped, running forward.

" _Renée!_ " she ran right up to Renée, headless of the two men, and fell to her knees, throwing her arms around her daughter with a sob.

Raymond made a tsk-ing noise, rubbing his knuckles. "How...touching."

Jean-Luc couldn't take his eyes off of Oliver, who remained next to his Assassin escort. They locked eyes and Jean-Luc's heart dropped.

Oliver wore a soft, sad look, smiling around the gag in his mouth, his eyes speaking volumes.

 _No._

 _Not again._

Jean-Luc clenched his hands, hoping to stop the tremoring before the Assassins noticed.

"My man," he grunted, glaring at Raymond.

"Ah," Raymond inspected his nails carefully with a sniff, "I do believe I mentioned something about that-"

"You _filthy puta-_ "

Renée tried to calm down, tried to slow her breathing. There was so much anger, _so much_ rage rising up in the air. It was like being smothered, like drowning, like not having air or breath or _hope._

Raymond raised his hand slowly and behind him the Assassin pulled out a gun, pointing it execution style at the back of Oliver's head. Oliver closed his eyes, face peaceful.

" _Raymond!"_ Jean-Luc roared, body tensing.

Renée squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to Ginger. Oh this was so bad, so bad. Things were about to combust and she was helpless and- and-

"I'm terribly sorry, Mistah LeBeau, but surely you realize your position here. He broke the treaty. Blood must be spilled to even the debt, or it could mean war," Raymond managed to look genuinely apologetic when he said it. Renée wanted to vomit.

"If you lay a _finger_ on him, I will _kill you,"_ Jean-Luc's face looked thunderous, like death itself.

Raymond threw his head back and laughed. "What are you going to do? There are a dozen of the best Assassins in the country currently standing on this street and there are _two_ of you. Are you going to beat a dozen of us with two Thieves?"

"No," Jean-Luc drew himself up, voice dropping softly, "I'll beat you with _one_."

Raymond's eyes narrowed, face twisting hideously. He leaned forward with a sneer, "He killed one of my men. He _crossed_ the border. Damages _will_ be paid or-"

"The fake Oliver did that first," Ginger hiccuped around the words, voice rough from crying, but she was glaring up at Raymond in an admirable show of bravery.

Jean-Luc whipped around, all pretense of calmness gone, " _What did you say?"_

Raymond scoffed and raised his hand. "Simon," he called, and behind him the Assassin flicked the safety off and moved his finger to the trigger.

"Wait! You're not allowed to cross the borders, right?" Ginger stood on shaky legs, eyes darting around wildly between the men, settling on the gun in the Assassin's hand and widening in fear.

"Oui," Jean-Luc grabbed her by the shoulder, squeezing urgently. "Did the Assassins cross first?"

"Amusing as this all is-"

"Ginger! _Did they cross first?!"_

"Yes! They did!" Ginger's words carried, and Raymond snarled, lowering his hand slowly.

All around them Renée felt the pressure of interest rising, as the conversation drew the audience in. Everyone seemed to be waiting on Ginger to continue, and she did with growing conviction.

"I was going to meet with the Thieves-"

"On Acoin Street?" Jean-Luc interrupted her impatiently.

"Yes, that place that was on your card. When I went there, your man," she shoved a finger in Raymond's face and Renée felt her heart stop, felt the impulse to jump up and slap her mother's finger down. Didn't the woman realize how deadly that man was? " _Your_ man tricked me into crossing the border. And he was going to _kill_ me!"

Raymond leaned back and considered his words, before smiling genially and shrugging, "Ah, I suppose that may be true. But he is dead now, so that debt has been paid. Unfortunately, the Thieves debt still remains, so-"

The Assassin squeezed the trigger, preparing to fire, when Jean-Luc yelled "The card! Ginger!" He whirled her around, shouting in her face frantically. "You came to my outpost? With a calling card?"

Raymond's eyes widened in alarm and Ginger nodded in confusion.

"Were you coming to find me? For a _job_?"

"Well, I-" Ginger stammered over her reply and Jean-Luc shook her shoulders a bit, talking over her loudly.

"A _job!_ You wanted me for a _job,_ right? Right?!"

Ginger's eyes widened slowly before her gaze darted over to look at Raymond's furious scowl. She looked at Jean-Luc, then back at Raymond then back at Jean-Luc before slowly saying, "Uh, y- yes. A...job. I wanted you for a job."

Jean-Luc kissed her, laughing and spun on Raymond with a toothy grin.

" _Well,_ mon ami, it seems we're in a bit of a pickle, doesn't it? Because _you_ are currently in debt to _me."_

Ginger glanced between the two men uncertainly, backing away to shield Renée once more.

Renée could feel a panic attack coming on, because the oily blackness of Raymond's soul began to rise, boiling to the surface in a sickening surge.

Jean-Luc swung his arms cheekily, fairly skipping over to the Assassin with the gun and jauntily poking the end of the gun until it pointed up and away from Oliver's head.

"Your man endangered a _client_ , which supersedes all border laws. As such, _you_ owe _me_. And I know _just_ the price I'd like you to pay," Jean-Luc continued cheerfully, untying Oliver's hands and relieving him of the gag around his mouth.

"It's true, sadly," Oliver said brightly as soon as his mouth was free.

Raymond looked between the two Theives and made an aborted movement, before the anger in his expression slowly melted away, leaving a placid mask once more.

"How wonderful that we could settle this so quickly. Until next time, Mistah LeBeau," Raymond lifted his cane in a small salute and turned.

As one, the Assassins started to melt back into the fog until only four people were left on the street.

"Oh," Ginger said softly. "Well..."

" _Not here,"_ Jean-Luc's voice was strained.

Oliver nodded, scooping Renée up and following after. Renée went limp in his arms, utterly spent. This day could not end soon enough, and it had only just begun.

Ginger trailed tiredly behind them. With one last look down the street, Jean-Luc turned and hurried after.

~-/-~

The door of the safe house shut with a soft click behind them.

Ginger sank into a puffy arm-chair with a sigh, body relaxing. Oliver stood next to her, cuddling Renée's head against his chest, watching Jean-Luc knowingly. Jean-Luc lurked just inside the door, face tense.

"You have to leave."

Ginger opened her eyes and pouted at Jean-Luc, bottom lip sticking out childishly. "After the day we just had? Fuck you. I'm gonna rest before I head back home. And _another_ thing, my _son-_ " Ginger sat up, gaining steam for what promised to be an epic fight when Jean-Luc cut her off sharply.

"No, you have to _leave._ Not leave this _house,_ leave _New Orleans_."

A stunned silence followed his statement.

"Permanently. And immediately, if possible," Jean-Luc crossed the room and began to lift a phone on the desk, fingers dialing nimbly.

Ginger watched him, color draining from her face, mouth opening and closing several times.

"We can't- leave? What do you- Why? What?" the questions seemed to tumble out of her in a rush, fighting for immediacy.

"Chére," Jean-Luc slammed the phone down loudly, making everyone in the room jump, before he leaned on the desk and continued in a soft, dangerous voice, "You just angered the deadliest man you will ever meet."

Ginger swallowed audibly.

.

"Raymond Boudreaux has _killed_ more people than you have ever _met_ in your entire life. He is held in check by a very small, very breakable code of laws. You have just robbed him of something he wants - _badly_. And if there's _anything_ that Raymond hates...it's a thief. You need to _run,_ and you need to run _now."_

The room remained silent in the wake of Jean-Luc's speech and after a beat, he picked up the phone, dialing once more.

After a moment of ringing, the other line picked up and Jean-Luc growled, "Wake everyone up. _We've got a job."_


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9- Paths and Escapes**

 **By Tsuki**

When given two paths,

take the third.

Fight for your own way.

It doesn't matter what you've heard

or what they might say.

Yours is the only path to take

It was chaos. Absolute chaos. There were men running around the room, flitting from one corner to the next in a near panic as Jean-Luc stood in the center like a monolith of calm and order. Ginger was sure that if she could, she would slap him for having the audacity to be so collected when he was sending her and her baby away from their home. Fortunately for him, she was still trying to understand what on Earth had just happened. One minute she was on her way to get her baby back, the next she was running for her life with a man who claimed to be the man who had just tried to kill her! Now she was in a house, God only knows where, being yelled at and pushed around as strangers sat around deciding what was going to happen to her. Ginger might have been in shock, but that didn't mean she didn't know what was happening. She knew just what was going on, and she didn't like it one bit. Now if only she could manage to do something about it.

As the clock starts counting down,

You see the world pass by.

You are stuck, can't make a sound,

Can't do a thing, though you try

26 hours 38 minutes

~-/-~

She was standing on pure willpower now, or maybe she wasn't. Renee wasn't all too aware of her own body at the moment, or really much of anything. The adrenaline had worn off long ago and now she was stuck being exhausted at a point in time when she was fairly sure she couldn't afford to be. She felt like she was drifting, sort of suspended in space as everything moved around her. It felt like her mind was racing, trying to analyze all that had happened within the past 24 hours. Between the exhaustion that comes from not resting her young body and the crash from the adrenalin high, Renee was ready to just pass out on her feet. So ready in fact that...

Slowly, surely time slips away

As consciousness fades,

Gone is the chance of yesterday

Left only is tomorrow's ways

25 hours 59 minutes

~-/-~

They didn't know what was really going on, how this drug addict, former or otherwise, could be so important to The Father. That he would give her and her child an entirely new life. It made no sense to them, especially considering that she almost got Oliver killed. In the end it really didn't matter if the decision was confusing or not to them, because The Father had made a decision. They would simply go along with it and hope that he knew exactly what he was doing.

They were just about to tell him that the car had arrived when suddenly the little girl crumpled onto the floor. They privately thought that it was a good thing, they were never much good with kids and the black eyes, which reminded them so much of little Remy but were so much more unnerving, that stared blankly at everything, seeing and not seeing...

They shuddered, yes it was much better that she was unconscious now, even if her mother was freaking out again. It was a good thing she seemed to trust Cameron enough to let him calm her down, they would have to remember to poke fun at him for that later and give him a hard time about his mysterious girlfriend. For all the fact that Cameron couldn't keep anything else a secret, the identity of his girlfriend was such a well kept secret that those who didn't know him all that well were beginning to think that she didn't exist. With a shake of their head they returned to their task, and informed The Father that his car was out front. He gruffly nodded and began to finish up his call, quietly informing them that they should begin to assist getting the little girl in the car. She was light, lighter than Remy, and when asleep seemed so much younger.

As Cameron steered the woman towards the car, they contemplated the child for a moment longer. It wasn't just her eyes that looked like Little Remy's. Her face looked startlingly similar, and now that he thought about it the woman shared a few prominent features with the Guild's resident troublemaker. If they didn't know any better they would say that she was... No, it couldn't be, what a strange thought to have.

They picked up the child carefully and brought them out to the car, passing her to Cameron who placed her in the center seat in the back. Briefly they considered asking, asking about her and if she might be...

But the chance was gone, for out the door walked Jean-Luc and there was no way they could ever ask such a question while The Father was there. The driver opened the passenger's side door and he slipped inside. They gave a brief greeting to the driver and went back inside to finish the arrangements for Oliver's transport.

It took half an hour to do so and in that time they were sure they overheard at least twelve separate cases of Oliver blackmailing various individuals. When his motorcycle finally arrived, it almost seemed like the proper riding attire just appeared on his body. Which, was made even more confusing by the fact that they were so sure that they hadn't even brought clothes for him... As they watched Oliver drive off they turned to their fellow thief and asked, "Did you give him the riding gear?"

Unobservant, unaware,

Just finish up and go,

Do not question what happened there

It's not for you to know

25 hours 20 minutes

~-/-~

Mrs. La Velle was having a grand old time. She was on her couch tucked between two cats, petting her beloved Simon, just enjoying their company. It was the perfect way to start her morning. At least it was until all her babies started getting agitated. Frowning she carefully got up. Taking Simon with her, she made her way to the door. Putting her eye up to the peephole she took a glance out into the hall in an attempt to figure out what was irritating everyone. It took her a few moments, but she did figure out what it was that was bugging her babies so much. There were three men going in and out of one of the other appartments. With a mighty frown she set down Simon on a scratching post and opened up the door.

"Why are you boys making such a ruckus this time in the morn'?"

The men froze and turned to face her, then to each other, their faces smoothing out into charming smiles and quirky grins, as if they were doing nothing wrong.

"We're s'posed to pack up everything in this apartment ma'am."

"Now that can't be right, Ginger's paid her rent and she hasn't done a thin' to get her and her girl kicked out. I should know, I own the place."

"Well ma'am, we were hired by the Misses herself. Don't know nothin' 'bout the who's or the why's. Just when, where and what."

"Well boys, I haven't been told 'bout any plans to move by the dear girl, so I suppose we..." She leveled her sternest look at the three of them, her wrinkles creasing to make it a most impressive glare, "Are at an impasse."

The youngest of the three shifted uncomfortably in place, still keeping a hold on his burden. The eldest took a glance at them, then back at her, "I don't believe so." He turns back to look at the other two, "Keep packing, we need to get this done quick as we can."

"Oh no you don't! That girl don't need no trouble from thieves! She has it hard enough!" She hiked up her skirts and marched her way right on over to them, "I. Will. Have. _None,_ of this foolishness going on.." She lifted a leg and began to kick at his shins, "In!", _kick, "_ My!", _kick, "_ Building!" She was about to begin kicking again when she heard someone coming up the stairs.

"Mrs. La velle?"

She turned her head and saw Ginger standing at the end of the hall. Dropping her skirts she turned around and smiled at her, her wrinkles falling back in place as gently as her skirts "Oh hello dear, sorry about this, I was just telling these young men about the rules here."

Unassuming, little old me

You'll find behind the facade

Why even the toughest of men in mili'try

Run from this old broad

25 hours

~-/-~

Laura was a woman of impeccable taste, and it showed. She knew how to dress and present herself in a way that was enticing, but not desperate. A wonderful skill in her chosen line of work if you asked her. Being a person with wonderful tastes also carried over into the relationships she formed, that's why when she found herself actually getting attached to Ginger, she was surprised. Ginger had started out as some hopeless lost cause she had taken under her wing out of pity. Somehow, somewhere along the way Ginger had become less of a charity case, and more of a friend. Now she was practically family.

So if Laura got with Mrs. La Velle, the owner of the apartment Ginger lived in, in order to help her out, well nobody could say anything about it now could they? It was because of the fact that she had become so close to Ginger that she noticed how strung out her friend was getting. She did what she could, but she was never the greatest at taking care of others. She used to think she was good at not worrying unnecessarily about people, but after not seeing or hearing from Ginger all yesterday, despite it being Christmas... She had proven herself wrong. She was still very worried about her friend, but she really didn't want to seem strange by going up to her apartment to check on her. So when Ginger showed up at her place, even more tired than usual and with a sad sort of smile on her face, Laura didn't even think twice about inviting her in for something to drink. She sat Ginger down at the table and brought both of their drinks.

"I thought you were going to come over yesterday for dinner?"

Ginger looked up at her, "I was, but somethin' came up that I couldn't miss." She looked back down into her cup and muttered, "Though I truly wish I did."

Laura placed a hand on Gingers shoulder and asked, "What happened? What's wrong?"

Ginger gnawed at her lip, still looking down into her cup, and then she began to talk, and talking turned to rambling, and rambling turned into sobbing. All Laura could do was stay there and listen, trying to assure her that everything would be okay. By the time Ginger had finished she had ruined one of Laura's shirts beyond any hope of redemption along with her tablecloth.

"Feel better now?" Asked Laura with a gentle smile.

Ginger nodded and wiped her face, "Sorry. I didn't mean to come here and just start bawling my eyes out."

"I would think not. Speaking of, what did you come here for?"

Ginger opened her mouth, but then closed it. She took a deep breath, "I don't really know how to say it. Silly considerin' I just said so much, but... I'm leavin' Laura... I can't stay in New Orleans, not anymore. I don't know where I'm goin' but I do know I can't be comin' back... I'm here to say goodbye, cause I don't know if I will ev'r get to see you again."

"Oh darlin' Of course you'll see me! What kind of friend would I be if I just let you go off to some strange new town without checking in on you. So you better be sendin' me a letter quick as you can!"

Ginger gave a wet sort of giggle, "Quick as I can. I promise."

Laura nodded approvingly and then nudged Ginger, "What about one last song before you go off on your new adventure?"

Ginger nodded and Laura began to sing,

"Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

This is la vie en rose"

They sang together till the end and when they were done Ginger said goodbye and Laura watched her get into a car with some men she had never seen before, and drive off.

"You best be taking care of my little sister and her baby girl," she mumbled to herself as they drove out of sight.

Dearest friend, Sing with me

Your voice I'll surely miss

Even if it takes an eternity

I'll take care of my little sis

22 hours 45 minutes

~-/-~

Vicky was not an emotional person, she simply had no time for them. Now that didn't mean she had no emotions, it just meant that she didn't bother sharing them with the world. Why would she? Unfortunately, not being an emotional person was not helping her in this situation. Ginger had been working for her for... Oh, over a year now... and though lately she had been taking less shifts in an attempt to bond with her little girl, Vicky was not ready for her to suddenly quit on her and even less ready for her to say that she would be leaving town. She could say with confidence that she had just about figured that girl out, and there was no way Ginger would be doing this without a damned good reason.

She couldn't just outright ask, not with all these customers around. However, Vicky had been getting information from people without them realizing far too long now not to be able to figure this all out without bringing attention to the fact that she was worried. It didn't take long for Vicky to figure out that Ginger had been caught up in something big, though exactly what she didn't know. Big enough that she had to leave town right away. Well, if her girl was in trouble it just wouldn't do for her to let her leave without giving her one last bit of help.

"Well then, if you really got to be going let me give you your last tip" Vicky walked over to the register and pulled out a large amount of cash, then handed it to Ginger, "Take care of yourself girl, and don't let no one push you round," and that was that.

Quickly, swiftly do what you should

Emotions don't need to be shown

Give her a tip, she'll do good

As she sets off on her own

19 hours, 56 minutes

~-/-~

Dianne Fable was the best Runner in all New Orleans. She also happened to keep all the other Runners in line, so when a message needed to be Ran to The Father, she was the obvious choice. It took her only ten minutes to find him, the first time. Then she was sent back with another message, or rather an entire list of orders. They were strange orders too. Why would he need to get Remy out of the Manor for a couple of days? More importantly why did he need Mrs. Marie to go with him? It just didn't make sense. She still delivered the message, word for word, confusing as it was.

Then rather than being sent on a different errand, like she usually would, she was given another message to Run to Jean-Luc. She wasn't complaining, but it was odd. It took her a bit longer to find him this time, he had changed locations and it was never easy to find him without a general idea where he was. Once again she gave the message and once more she was sent back with a reply. Then it happened again, and again, with each message being slightly more odd then the last. It was a great relief when she was finally sent back with the message of, "I'll be home soon, make sure everything is ready." She may have been the best Runner, but even she gets tired after an all out sprint around the city!

A girl, a Runner,who never shall fail

Someone who loves to Dream

Shall share message and tale

while keeping track of her team

16 hours 19 minutes

~-/-~

Etienne was a smart boy. He knew when something important was going on, and today something really important was happening around the Manor. It seemed like everybody was rushing around trying to get something done. That was fine, that happened all the time, but this time nobody would tell him anything about what they were doing! Remy had been sent on a trip with Mama and he was sure the only reason he wasn't sent along was because they couldn't spare anyone to make sure he and Remy wouldn't get into any trouble. It was weird! Everybody was hiding things and moving things around to the point that the Manor looked completely different from normal!

When Uncle came home he brought somebody with him, but Etienne wasn't allowed to meet them, even though he really wanted to! So, he did what any proper thief would do, he waited 'til everyone was asleep to sneak about the Manor and try to find the people Uncle brought home. It was easy to sneak around, so long as you knew where the squeaky boards were. Everybody knew where they were because nobody wanted to accidentally wake anyone up trying to sneak food from the kitchen late at night. An unexpected groan surprised him as one of the old floorboards creaked. He swung around to face the direction it came from, ready but not really, to face his Uncle who had surely caught him sneaking about. However, it wasn't Uncle, it was a girl frozen in shock, about Remy's size, with dark red hair and black eyes, like Remy's but green! Etienne grins wickedly, this must be one of the people Uncle brought home! This was perfect! He waves at the girl and quietly says,

"Hi, I'm Etienne."

The girl remains silent for a while before finally she relaxes, when she does he can't help but wonder why the board doesn't squeak more, but that thought is pushed away when she responds with a voice quiet as a mouse, "Renee."

Renee, that was a pretty name! Now to figure out why Uncle brought her to the Manor. "Soooooo, what are you doing here?"

Renee gave no response, just stared at him silently. Okay, that didn't work, maybe something else. "Did Uncle adopt you too?"

Renee's eyes drifted to the side. Etienne looked that way but didn't see anything. What was she looking at? Was it all the way at the end of the hall?

"Hey!" He waved his hand in front of her face. She slowly blinked and focused her black eyes on him.

A curious boy wanders his home

In order to meet someone new

What he discovered as he did roam

Was a secret and a mystery too

10 hours 27 minutes

~-/-~

Renee was not pleased. She had passed out this morning in the wake of her adrenaline rush and had slept the day away, effectively squandering any chance of escape from Jean-Luc that might have shown itself to her. There was one bright side to it she supposed, she had been brought right to the thieves Manor, allowed inside and had been left unsupervised. She was free to roam the halls without any interference. To top it all off, other than being really hungry, she felt fantastic.

So she set out, opening the door as carefully as she could, to keep it from squeaking too much, and then, with far more difficulty than she would have liked, she used the catsfoot she had learned so long ago, to ghost across the halls. She knew where she was of course, it was the only real possibility after all, she was in the home of the Thieves. She was in Remy's home, and if she was oh so very lucky, he might still be here. If not, well now that she knows what it looks like, and maybe later, if she was lucky where exactly it was, she could come back.

Alas, she let herself get a bit too lost in thought and made a mistake, causing a board to creak. She froze and noticed far too late that there was someone else wandering the halls. They spun around to face her, then stopped, and for just a second, he looked surprised, and then his face morphed into the biggest of grins.

He waves and whispered, "Hi, I'm Etienne."

It takes an embarrassingly long amount of time for Renee to finally relax and respond to the unspoken question, "Renee."

She had, foolishly, hoped that was the end of their conversation, but he continued, "Soooooo, what are you doing here?"

She stared at him blankly, hoping that he would become unnerved and go away.

He was not deterred, "Did Uncle adopt you too?"

Uncle? Who in the world would... Oh. He must know Remy, seen his eyes and thought that Jean-Luc had taken her in as well.

She must have gotten lost in thought again because she never noticed the young boy, blonde, brownish eyes, need to remember, walk up to her until he was waving his hand in front of her face. She blinked slowly a couple of times and was about to make some kind of response when her stomach spoke for itself.

As soon as it did the grin was back and he was taking her hand jabbering quietly about showing her the kitchen and the safe way to get here and 'why didn't you tell me you were hungry?'

So it was that with great reluctance she was dragged to the kitchen, and taught the proper way to get there without waking anyone up.

"You have to avoid all the squeaky boards, and you can't go down that hall because it is full of pranks that everybody puts up to mess with anyone who forgets, or sleepwalks. It is really funny to see, but not so fun to be in."

He went on and on about the little things in the house, which, while great for information gathering, was not so great for her nerves. Finally, they reached the kitchen, she was fully prepared to grab something and make her escape to explore more of the house on her own, but unfortunately they were not alone in their midnight wanderings.

Inside the kitchen was a handful of thieves, chatting quietly and having midnight snacks. She really wanted to blow something up. The thieves fawned over the two of them, getting them food and something to drink and made sure that she ate her fill. When she was finally satisfied she found that she wasn't as awake as she had initially thought, she was ready to fall back asleep and she privately cursed her child body for needing so much rest. She was given no chance to escape as the people in the kitchen took it upon themselves to escort her and Etienne to their respective rooms. She had planned to feign sleep long enough for them to go away so she could once again escape, but nothing ever went to plan when you were a Lucky Seven and she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

Come awake oh tired child,

Discover what's around,

Be wary of the one who smiled,

and tread carefully cross the ground

9 hours 50 minutes

~-/-~

It was almost time. The three of them stood in front of the train, waiting for their turn to board. Renee was squeezing her mother's hand feeling every bit of her bodies age as she worried about the little things, trying not to dwell on what was about to happen, the choice she had made. To stay with her mother, or to keep on with her quest to find her brother. It was hard, but she had made her choice and here she was. With her mother and a stranger, about to board the train that would forever be marked as a turning point in her life. The entire way through the station was a blur, she was more focused on agonizing on whether or not this was the right decision. Between that and comforting her mother, who was once again coming to the realization of what doing all this meant, she had no time to pay attention to the color or the tiles, or how many buttons were on the ticket masters uniform. Soon enough they were on the train and seated, the thief who had been sent to keep Renee's mother safe had gotten up to check out the train, in order to ensure there were not, unwanted passengers aboard. Renee turned to her mother and smiled sadly, "I'm going to miss home."

Ginger sighs and looks out the window, "I will too... I'm so sorry, about all of this. I-I..."

Renee gives her mother a hug, "I forgive you." She continues hugging for a while, until the announcer informs those outside the train, via intercom, that their train was about to depart. This was it.

She tightened her grip on the woman who had finally proven herself to be a mother and whispered, "I love you, and... I'm sorry..." Before letting go and racing off, jumping off the train right before it began to move, leaving her mother and her new caretaker behind. She had made her decision, and as much as she cared for Ginger, she just couldn't leave without ever seeing her little brother again. With determination she made her way out of the station. It was the first day of the rest of her life.

Fare thee well, and goodbye

The choice was already made

My only apology is that I lied

Not that I stayed.

0 hours 0 minutes


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Setting Up Shop**

 **by Tylerbamafan 34**

 _'_ _This isn't ideal'_ Renee thought to herself. ' _But It'll do for now'._

She was perched at the window of an abandoned apartment building. New Orleans was full of places like this, battered as it was by storms. These large complexes sometimes sat abandoned for decades or longer. Most of the time however, they would quickly become inhabited by people with nowhere else to go, people who were desperate, or people who simply needed to disappear.

She was the latter. She needed to vanish into the depths of the city, avoid the eyes of the thieves and the assassins. At least until she was ready for them. She knew that even if she were at her old skill level, her body was not able to keep up with the demands she would make of it.

Thus, her scouting for a training ground after leaving her mother behind.

She winced at the pang of guilt that stabbed her but resolutely stuffed it into a far corner of her mind, she'd made her choice and she'd take the consequences… come hell or high water.

Still, this place would serve its purposes as a base. A place for her to scout around the city and search for the Thieves Guild. She frowned. _I've got a lot to do…_ she mused idly, glancing around the complex that used to be known as Rossei Freemont. _Set up traps, create a fire pit, and so, so much more._

She cracked her neck, and rolled her shoulders _Time to go to work._

It wasn't easy work, and her progress was hampered by her small size, but she was aware of the process, and that was half the work, after all, she had one this a Thousand times, she could do it a thousand more, and was able to avoid injuring herself because of it. Eventually she'd have to go into town and steal what she needed but for now, she could make do with the necessities. She'd done it often enough.

She had decided to take the corner furthest away from the entrance of the complex, and riddle the area with traps. Simple traps, like deadfalls and snares, were second nature and the fact that they didn't require chakra merely made more intuitive to use and adjust for her circumstances, and to install in certain areas. The rotting wood was an issue, but easily rectified and made to look new and lull people into thinking it had been renovated, or was on its way to that.

Snares and tripwires were placed at entrances and windows, and she was easily able to create smoke bombs with different materials like flour and coal dust. Anyone who tried to enter via a window, would be in for a nasty surprise.

A fire pit was quickly set up, and while it was not anything particularly pretty, she could destroy it easily if she was discovered here. She'd even managed to set up a hammock in the farthest corner of the building.

She eventually found a clock tower nearby, one that was clearly decades old and hadn't been maintained in at least ten years, if her instincts were right, and she decided to use the area behind the clock itself as an intel room, storing books and papers and notes of the city high above the city, where only she could get to them.

She unfurled a map across the back wall and taped it to the wall, thumb tacks were used to mark important landmarks in the city, and she was quick to add her temporary home to the map. She leaned back, satisfied with what she'd accomplished.

Renee began scouting the city, using high points like cathedrals and monuments to scan the city and memorize the grid. She noted locations like libraries, hospitals, schools. and the like.

Time passed quickly after she got set up, her days were a blur of training, study, and recon. Her body needed to be conditioned again, for running, climbing, falling, and endurance. She used the city as her own personal training ground, learning to escape into the city's crowds, and disappear into the dark alleyways. Days became weeks, weeks became months, and as her skills and knowledge grew… so too did she.

Until at last, _at last,_ she had a lead.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **by MisteriosaSaky**

 _'Some people are just stupid.''_

Renee thought, observing the bar. It was the same stupid bar where she had got caught the first time, and she was watching the same stupid thief that had caught her back then.

She had tried to find Jean-Luc's Manor – if nothing else she wanted to see Remy and make sure he was okay. She would have loved to run away with him, but she didn't think she could provide for both of them at this point. Keep him with her, yes. Provide, protect and hide both of them from Thieves and Assassins at the same time…?

She hated and feared Jean-Luc, he and all the things he represented. The loss of her brother, that horrible moment when he took Remy away and her baby brother's bright red eyes staring at her in anguish, the loss of her home, of her mother… But… She knew he couldn't be completely terrible. He had helped her mother, protected her and Ginger, and when it was clear they were in too much danger to stay in New Orleans he had made plans to move them to a place where they could have a better life, safe from the Assassins.

Maybe if she had met the man under other circumstances it would have been different. Unfortunately, that future was lost now. That Thief might be a man of honour, and a good leader for his Guild, but that didn't change the fact that he had stolen her brother. She would never forgive him for that.

 _'I need to be sure Remy is safe.'_

She had been able to track the thieves to different places in her search for Jean-Luc's Manor but she was still unsure where it was. After some effort, she had been able to reduce the options to just four safe houses. Still, it was too much of a risk for her liking. If Renee was being held in one of those places... and Jean-Luc knew she was still here. If he ever suspected she was closer to Remy than what he guessed already then Remy would be moved again, even farther out of her reach. Some part of her was wary of using the same trick again but she was not the same stupid, naive and weak child as before.

How on earth she thought that charging a pebble in the _same room_ , after struggling to even _reach_ the room with her intended goal was a good idea was just completely beyond her. She was prepared this time around though, a poker chip coated in chakra was ready inside her pocket. She had wanted to use a slip of paper, or even a playing card since those were easier to charge and less noticeable than a pebble, but that could be suspicious. A poker chip on the other hand?

These were thieves. They tricked, cheated and stole for a living. Who would look twice at a poker chip? Most would think of it as a joke of sorts. For days she had planned this: What was safe to use? How she can do it? At the end she had reached the conclusion that the safest route was the poker chip, with the card a close second.

Now she was making her way to the room, caution and wariness boosting all her senses. Her mind, a mind so different but so alike to her Nara one, fast and paranoid to the extreme. It was almost laughable how easy it was to make her way between people, climb the stairs, put the chip in the bag and go outside without any witnesses.

She waited outside, humming to herself. Suddenly the bag tagged with her chip was moving.

 _'Gotcha!'_

~-/-~

Jean-Luc was annoyed. It had been a year since Remy's sister had ran away from her mother. Renee was still in the city, but he couldn't find her. Despite his best effort there were only rumours here and there to confirm that she was still in his City at all.

Gossip of a demon child with red hair, striking green orbs surrounded with pure black, and wearing matching midnight colours, stalking the city at night. This 'diable du noir' rubbish was not what he wanted. Even less when people began to call Remy 'diable du blanc'.

So many similarities between the two kids, they were certainly two halves of the same soul. He had wondered frequently then if maybe he was supposed to take both of them with him that day…

More importantly, he had come to the conclusion that the sudden change of moods by Remy were because of that girl. He feared what would happen if the stupid girl was hurt, or God forbid, killed. Might that hurt Remy? Could it kill him? He wasn't sure and the uncertainty often kept him awake at night, wondering if tonight would be the night...

He looked at the grumpy kid in front of him with barely concealed amusement, Remy had been searching for hours for the chocolate eggs but he hadn't been able to find them. Suddenly his son, _Remy_ , was grinning and laughing. The exact snap change in mood from previously – one's Jean had put down to who his twin. He pursed his lips.

That wasn't good, not good at all.

~-/-~

' _It wasn't fair! His Père always made fun of him, he was really trying!'_

Remy had been getting rather unhappy with his Pèrewhen suddenly felt amused, happy even, at the situation. The urge to smile and laugh hit him hard and he found himself almost giddy with joy. Something good had just happened.

There was this fuzzy feeling inside of him, that grew even brighter. _Love,_ that's what he was feeling. It was the same feeling his Pèrehad for him. But that feeling wasn't only inside himself; it was close, really close now.

"It's almost here!" Remy exclaimed with enthusiasm, spinning around in search of this person who loved him so so much.

"What's here chère?" his Père ask with a smile but… he wasn't happy inside. For a brief second, Remy worried that something was wrong. Then he felt the love again and everyone was happy.

"The love is coming! It's almost here!" Remy explained with a grin, "I need to find it!" He announced turning around to search for it, but his Père's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Well, that and the sudden fear inside his Père, but that couldn't be right. Love was good, why would his Père be afraid of it? Did his Père think he was going to forget about him for this new love person? He wasn't going to do that! His Père was Remy's Père and nothing could replace family!

"Come on now, Remy. We need to go."

The fear in his Père was growing, so he took his Père's hand and smiled up at him.

"Where are we going Père?"

~-/-~

 _'Fuck! What the hell is wrong with these thieves!? This was supposed to be difficult, sure, but somehow this feel like an ambush. There is no way a place like this can have so many people to just guard the gardens.'_

She has been doing a great job, up to now. She was outside the House of the Thieves when suddenly a lot of people appeared from inside the house. This was a trap; she was sure about that. But Remy was here, she could feel him, feel his uncertainty and fear. He was probably near terrified right now.

Renee was a lot of things. A reincarnated ninja, a smart little girl, a fast and skilled child, stubborn to a fault when she put her mind to something… but above all she was still a child in body if not mind, with a child's instincts.

She knew that the smart thing to do was retreat and plan. She needed to, should do, but just thinking about an upset Remy with nobody there to help him was enough to banish all those doubts and fears to the back of her mind, to throw all her careful plans out of the metaphorical window.

' _Remy needs me.'_

Moving as silently as she could, she ran inside the house while the thieves at the doorway were distracted, and to a corridor down the left. She was there and gone before they could even spot her, let alone react to her presence.

' _Just a bit more, he is a few more rooms this way.'_

She ran, careful of the squeaky floorboards that Etienne had pointed out to her over a year ago. As she ran, she reached out, searching for that long lost connection, the one that always told her how her twin was, what he needed. Only, she had overestimated herself. Lowering her shields was a fatal mistake. Fear, anger, worry battered against her senses, not just from Remy but from others in the house too. It left her confused and disorientated. She struggled to push past it and _concentrate_.

 _'This is it. Remy is here. I can feel him, but someone – many someones maybe - are with him. What should I do? Should I hide and wait? Who am I kidding? I am going inside. I am GOING to see him NOW.'_

She lifted her hand to the handle, twisted it slowly, then opening the door without a sound, she peeked inside. There she saw two figures; the man of her nightmares, Jean-Luc, the father of the guild and a small kid with bright red hair, only a few shades darker than her own, and big, worried red over black eyes looking around. He was obviously stressed and nervous with so many thieves around.

She hated that look on his face. She hated the jittery feeling all but radiating from his tiny body and adding to the storm in her head. She wanted- no, needed to stop, to make it better.

She took a deep breath to steel her nerves when a hand wrapped around her waist and a cloth was clamped over her mouth and nose. She was forced to take an instinctive breath of surprise, and her eyes becoming heavy and blurred.

 _'No! Remy!'_

She thought in despair, extending her hand out in a final attempt to reach her baby brother. The images in front of her eyes swam into a bright blur of despair, loneliness and then… nothingness. Her last thoughts before the light was taken away from her were…

" _Why me?"_

~-/-~

Charles jumped into a seated position with a gasp, clutching his head in annoyance. He felt so useless sometimes. A kid, the same _fucking_ kid with black eyes was all but yelling for help, _his_ help. This was the sixth time this particular child with black eyes had called to him. Those bright green eyes over a black background is all he can remember each and every time.

That and the absolute despair in that child's mind.

Every time he felt it he wished he could just find it, find them, but he couldn't. He'd tried and tried and never succeeded. By this point, he knew he was only still looking for his own selfish reasons, only wanting to find the child to stop his own pain. But didn't he have the right to feel that way? Hadn't he suffered enough? He'd already lost his sister in all but blood. Why couldn't he at least have peace in his own dreams?

With that decided he lay against his bed, turned around, and covered himself. The child had stopped screaming for now and he needed a nap. And no-one was going to stop him having it.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Exile**

 **by Dinner**

It is of great use to the sailor to know the length of his line, though he cannot with it fathom all the depths of the ocean.

~ John Locke

"-my is safe, Marie took him and Etienne out of state, on a trip."

Renée tried to open her eyes, but they were heavy.

"Good, did you manage to make contact?"

Her mouth was dry, she wanted to cough, but knocked down that urge, she wouldn't get any information if they found out she was awake.

"I did." That was Oliver, Renee remembered his voice, it was etched into her memories. "Are you sure you wan-?"

"She left me no other choice." Jean-luc bit out.

They were closer to her now than they had been when she awoke. Renée feigned unconsciousness; her dry mouth, irritated lungs and heavy eyes told her she was probably knocked out by an anesthetic, chloroform? Considering she was a small kid, stuff like that could keep her down for a while.

"Make sure that when she wakes up, she's secured. No need for another runnin'" She heard feet shuffling, one set coming closer, and another moving away.

As a door slammed closed, Renée opened one of her eyes, just enough to look through her eyelashes. The vision was blurry at best, but she saw enough. She was still in the same house, there was a window to her left, and Oliver was looking for something in a cabinet? She couldn't quite see what he was doing, but his back was turned.

She wouldn't have a chance like this again.

She got up, her feet touched the soft carpet on the floor. She had been laid on a couch, thankfully the soft cushions and her lack of weight made her nearly soundless. She grabbed a letter opener from the desk.

A year of training.

One man to take out.

She jumped on his back, ready to put the makeshift weapon through his neck, into his brains.

He turned around.

She lost her grip, both of him and the letter opener and fell off.

They made eye contact.

She stormed him again, element of surprise gone, but he was sure to underestimate her.

He didn't. Despite all her training, it took but one kick for her to double over, clenching her stomach, trying not to vomit. Her chance was over, he was bigger, stronger and she wouldn't recover from this anytime soon.

They made eye contact again, his face determined and unrelenting. Out of spite she released her stranglehold on her insides and promptly spread her lunch and breakfast with three great heaves, all over the carpet.

Oliver didn't say a word as he grabbed her after her puking was over. He didn't even need two arms to keep her from moving her own. She tried to kick him, bite him, but nothing worked.

She cursed and screamed, cried for help, but no one came. She cursed her own weakness, her lack of a plan. She had come so close, yet she felt so far away from her goal.

Oliver carried her up two flight of stairs until they reached the attic. With his free arm he pulled a chair out of a stack of furniture. The attic was dark and by the smell of it, moldy. He put her in the chair and from his pocket retrieved two sets of handcuffs.

Renée was sure she could come up with a nasty remark or two about that. But she had screamed herself sore, and if she was honest with herself; her body was too tired after the explosion of movement she had asked from it earlier. Adrenaline had quickly come, but it hadn't stayed.

"Now, you can try to worm yourself out of these." Oliver said, his voice kinder than she had expected. "But you'll only end up hurting yourself."

Renee made a grumbling noise, if she was older it might've sounded threatening. She was already trying to look for a way out, there were enough objects around with which she could possibly pick the lockets, but with Oliver keeping a watchful eye on her, she wouldn't get far.

"Can you get me some water?" she croaked out.

"No."

Renée could feel tears welling up, if she'd had chakra, if she was stronger… this wouldn't be a problem.

"Ple-."

Oliver cut her off. "Be silent or I'll gag you."

Renée swallowed the rest of her words.

Time passed, and neither said another word. Until Jean-luc came back.

"Ah, so you took her here."

Oliver stood a bit straighter at those words. "Yes. Had to cuff her, she tried to kill me with a letter opener."

A silent moment passed between the two. Renée would've liked to see jean-luc's face, but she was sitting with her back towards him.

"I think it is time this nonsense ends." Jeanluc said, giving something to Oliver while they switched places.

The Father of Thieves went through his knees to be on eye-level with her. And Renée took his challenge head-on, stared him straight into the eyes. Hoping her anger and hatred for him would make his head explode.

"You have been a very stupid girl, messin' with things you don't know nothing about, but I think I owe you at least an explanation."

Renée felt her eyes widen, she hadn't expected that.

"When I took my son away from Ginger, I did so for the sake of this city. I'm a powerful man but another powerful man is trying to usurp my throne." Jean-lucs voice was low, lower than it had been the last time she heard him talk.

"I saved that boy and made him mine. I love him, and he has a happy family. And I don't know why or how you think you have to be with him."

"He's my brother!"

Jean-luc spat on the floor. "Like hell he is. You think he's your brother because you came out of the same whore? You think you're siblings? You're not. You're his cancer. A parasite. Every moment of every day he feels your pain, and the closer you are the more pain he feels. You are a leech sucking the joy right out of his blood."

Renee felt herself press her back into the chair, spit shooting out of Jean-Luc's mouth mixing with the teary tracks on her face. "He can feel you. Every moment of every day, he can feel you!"

He was beating his chest, as if to show her where he was hurting.

"And it hurts him. I've been keeping him away from his mother, because of you!

"You come barging in here like you're his savior, you're not."

"I am! I am his father in all but blood and I will keep him safe from threats like you. No matter the cost."

"I told you and your mother to stay away. But you don't listen, I hate to do this, but it's your own fault."

From behind her two hands appeared. One holding her head still, the other holding a piece of cloth over her mouth.

She panicked, holding her breath for as long as she could.

Jean-Luc placed his hand on the chairs arms and pushed his face so close she could feel his warmth. "Stay away from my son."

Renée didn't know if she passed out because she was holding her breath or because of the chloroform, but darkness took her either way.

Drip.

Renée turned around.

Drip.

She searched for her blanket with her fingers, her shoulders were cold.

Drip.

There was no blanket.

Drip.

She opened her eyes, closed them, and opened again.

Drip.

It was dark.

Her head felt… foggy?

Drip.

What was that sound? For that matter… Where was she?

Drip.

Renee stretched her arms out, she couldn't see, it was too dark for that. But she could still feel her su-

Drip.

-roundings. She could stand, and stretching her arms all the way, she didn't feel a ceiling. She spread her arms to look for a wall or any kind of furniture.

Drip.

She took a few steps to the right and felt her hand connect with something cold and solid.

Drip.

Metal? The wall was indented, it wasn't flat, it was ridged, a wave like pattern.

Drip.

She used her hands to guide her and walked the entire length of the ribbed metal wall twice, it took her about 15 full steps to go from one end to the other.

Drip.

Reaching the end of the wall she followed the corner. It felt different. It wasn't corrugated but flat and she could feel, after just a few steps, a line going from the bottom to the top. Like a door.

Drip.

Renee pushed as hard as she could, trying to find a lock or door handle, but there was nothing. She took a step back and used her weight to push harder, but the door was unrelenting.

Drip.

She let herself slide down. Breathing heavy and deep. Was this a panic attack?

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

She had found a large crate or box in the opposite corner of where she woke up. It was filled to the brim with bottles, cans of different sizes and plastic bags. But the greatest thing was the flashlight she found on top of it.

Drip.

Renee turned on the light and her suspicions were confirmed. She was in a shipping container. The metal was old and worn, there were places where the blue paint had eroded and made place for rusted brown metal.

Drip.

Looking around it was as dreary as she felt. She took the flashlight in her mouth and used both her hands to search through the huge crate. Hopefully there was something in it to keep her warm.

Drip.

There was one large towel, big enough to wrap around her three times. She laid the towel on the ground so she could sit on something softer. It wasn't much but it was comfortable.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

There wasn't much to do in the container, keeping track of time was hard, and she had nothing other than the plastic bags, bottles and cans. And she had no way… no way out. She had tried to call for help but there was no one.

Drip.

She had turned off her flashlight, there was no use in keeping it on and waste energy…

Drip.

It was dark… She had water to drink, the bottle was already half-empty. She was getting hungry.

Drip.

She turned her flashlight back on, with it came warmth; she liked that. She had taken two cans out of the crate and opened the first one by pulling the pull tab. The sound it made, gave her shivers. It was so different from the constant dri-

Drip.

Removing the lid revealed… some sort of red sauce, it smelled like processed tomatoes, with her finger she searched for what else was in it and found bits and pieces of frankfurter sausage. She put the can on the ground, she was hungry but had quickly lost her appetite after seeing that.

Drip.

The second can was smaller, as she peeled back the lid she already dreaded the smell that came from it. It was pink. And slimy. And she knew exactly what it was. Spam.

Drip.

Renée ate both cans when her hunger was stronger than her dread. It wasn't even half bad after a few mouthfuls.

Drip.

She figured out what the plastic bags were for a little after having eaten. Excrement, feces…

Shit and piss.

Drip.

She felt like an animal. Locked up in a cage. Stripped of her humanity.

Drip.

Her hatred for Jean-Luc had been growing ever since waking up, but so had the hatred towards herself. What was she thinking, trying to thwart an entire guild of thieves at the age of five? What was she thinking running away from Ginger?

Drip.

Time seemed slower while crying.

Drip.

She cried a long long time.

Drip.

She woke up, wrapped in the towel-blanket. With her tongue she wet her lips, they tasted salty. The container was still dark, and time had passed; though Renée didn't know how much.

Drip.

She had moved the crate so she could fold herself up in the space between it and the wall. That was when she discovered a hole. The crate had been covering a hole in the wall!

Drip.

Her finger was stuck in the hole.

Drip.

She'd managed to get her finger out of the hole. And now she was looking through it. It was almost completely dark except for the glistening of a drop of water falling down.

Drip.

The glistening was mesmerizing, it was maybe three meters away? But that little bit of light was so much better than the monotonous blandness of her prison walls.

Drip.

She kept looking at the drops of water falling down and splashing in a little pool on the ground. She had to pee.

Drip.

Renée figured that at least a day must've gone by… But she wasn't sure. She had slept, and she'd been awake, but she had no measure of time, no daylight, no clock, no birds chirping outside of her window to tell her the sun had come up. She had nothing but the sound of water.

Drip.

And it was driving her mad.

Drip.

It didn't stop.

Drip.

She'd started singing. Just parts of songs and tunes. Little melodies, everything to drum out the sound of-

Drip.

She had just downed the last bit of water from her first bottle. Only twelve bottles left. She didn't know how long she would stay in here, but twelve bottles wouldn't keep her alive for long.

Drip.

She was lonely. A year alone in New Orleans wasn't as lonely as this.

Drip.

"Jolene… Jolene." Renee was trying to rock herself to sleep. Her blanket wrapped around her, the flashlight tightly in her hand for comfort.

Drip.

Opening another pair of cans, Renée cheered in joy as one of them held cookies. A can of chocolate chip cookies.

Drip.

The cookies' can was empty. Why had she eaten them all in one go?

Drip.

Her blanket was wet, she felt dirty and needed to wash herself. She had just filled a second plastic bag, if she used just the tip of her blanket she could clean herself up.

Drip.

The bottle she had used to make the towel-blanket moist had fallen and spilled all over the floor. The towel was drenched through and through now and she'd lost half a bottle of water because of it. She didn't know how much longer she could do this?

Drip.

She had put the flashlight on the edge of the crate, and with most of the cans and bottles she'd made a figurine. Clicking the light on, a shadow appeared on one of the walls. With a bit of imagination, it looked human enough.

Drip.

There were two cans on the floor, both of them opened, one in front of Renee, the other in front of the shadow. "I tell you, Ginger was not the best cook." She took a bit of the spam and swallowed it with a sour look on her face. "But even she didn't make stuff this bad."

Drip.

"Ah yes! Good question." Renee nodded. "I'm not sure Shika. I don't mind the red hair, but I'm not a fan of it either. It makes me look like Ginger."

Drip.

She talked to Shika for a long time, about memories. About her lìkes, dislikes and plans for the future, if she actually had one. Ways to escape, they didn't come up with many. Renée wasn't sure if the Shika shadow was a boy or a girl. If the androgynous form was herself or someone she'd loved once with all her heart. But she knew that Shika was here for her when no-one else was, and just when she was going to ask the shadow another question, the light flickered. Once.

Drip.

Twice. "Please don't go."

Drip.

As the light sputtered out like a candle in the wind Renee pulled her legs close to her chest. "I don't think I like this life Shika."

Drip.

Without her flashlight, time seemed to move slow again. She didn't cry anymore though, her tears had dried up three cans ago. After opening a fourth can she found another use for the plastic bags. Vomit.

Drip.

She had been lying on the ground a lot. Her blanket was almost dry, but no longer nice and soft. She had tried to climb into the crate and curl herself up like a cat, but that had only ended with her getting splinters in her fingers.

Drip.

Another bottle was empty. How much longer would they keep her here?

Drip.

She had taken to watching the glistening of the water drops again.

Drip.

Renée was almost asleep, her eyes already sanded, when she heard something.

Drip. Squeak.

A door? Someone opened a door? There was someone close by? Renée jumped up. "Help me! Help me!"

Shuffle, shuffle. Drip.

"I'm in here, someone! Anyone, help me!" She took the flashlight and slammed it against the walls repeatedly. "Help!"

Drip. Shuffle, shuffle. Squeak.

"No, come back! Help me! Hel-", her screams turned to sobs. Time seemed to stop.

Drip.

Renée thought of another use for the plastic bags, maybe she had been wrong before? If she pulled one over her head…

Drip.

Renée stopped caring after that. The darkness around her, the lack of depth, the lack of warmth. It was better than nothing.

Drip.

She hadn't felt hungry in a while. And she had just finished her last bottle. Time would go quickly now; she was sure of that.

Drip.

Her lips felt dry, she touched them with her hand, and yes; they were cracked. She didn't mind, at least she felt something.

Drip.

She didn't feel anything anymore. There was just existing now.

Drip.

Existing… I have to exist…

Drip.

"I am still here" she didn't say the words, or maybe she did… her lips didn't move though.

Drip.

"I am."

Drip.

"I am."

Drip. Squeak. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, thunk. SCREECH.

Light invaded her.

"I am."

The light felt wrong, she belonged to the darkness now.

"I am."

She tried to push herself further back, but the light was everywhere, there was no escaping it. Two strong hands picked her up from the floor.

"I am."

The dripping had stopped.

The moment the engine started Renee was brought back to reality. She bolted upright, and in an instant took everything in.

It was bright.

It was hot.

Everything was loud.

There were three men.

She was in a car.

Her hands were free.

One of the men was talking.

She did not understand it.

Everything came crashing down on her like a tsunami on a beach. It was too much information. Her hands found each other, and she tried to focus on-

They were riding, cars passed in a rush, the three men were quiet now. The driver had one arm on the steering wheel. "Where are you taking me?"

The man next to her answered, or talked. But she didn't understand a word, it sounded like gibberish.

Renée felt oddly normal under the circumstances. She wasn't panicking, not anymore. It was obvious that these three men worked for Jean-Luc and that she was no longer in New Orleans. But where was she?

The answer came after almost half an hour of riding, next to the road was a large sign. The first half of it was in Arabic, ( اسكندرية) she didn't understand those, but there was also an English translation under it. She had to narrow her eyes to focus on it as they sped by.

"Exiting Alexandria,

Alexandria - Cairo Desert Road"

She had almost missed it; her eyes were slow after…

Renée forcibly dragged her mind out of that gutter. The past was the past, if she was going to dwell on it, it wasn't going to be when she couldn't afford the weakness. Right now she had to be sharp.

The man next to her was obviously a local, he had the beginnings of a stubbly beard, his eyebrows dark and thick and his skin bronzed by the sun. He didn't look like someone who would help a kidnapper…

"Do you speak English?" She tried, her words soft and even. She hated how grated it sounded compared to… 'No, I have to focus'.

The man looked at her, allowing her to see the other side of his face, he had a bruise around his other eye. For a man his voice was high, but the words he said, as slow as her own, didn't connect with Renée. She didn't understand him.

"Renée." She said, her hand on her chest.

The man seemed to understand, he smiled at her; his teeth were white but his right front teeth was chipped. "Mouhammed." he answered, his hand also on his chest.

After that their conversation had run dry.

Apparently just in time for the radio to fill the silence.

After two hours of riding over the Desert Road and passing not a single stretch of desert, Renée wondered if her mental image of Egypt was really that far off. Or maybe they were close to the Nile? Renée wasn't sure. She hadn't looked at a world map, or studied Egypt in a long time.

She guessed this was just another way in which she had not prepared herself.

The car slowed down, and Renée - when had she fallen asleep? - perked up. The car didn't stop moving though, it just turned a sharp corner. They were in a city or village now. Everywhere around them there were houses. Most of the buildings seems to be built on each other like lego blocks stacked by a child, almost straight, but slightly off. Renée was almost sure that if three men pushed one wall, the building would collapse.

There were tight and narrow streets and the car was slowly making its way through them. There weren't many people walking around, Renee had an inkling as to why. The smoldering hot sun that was relentlessly bludgeoning everyone and everything that wasn't taking shelter in the shadow of something or someone.

The further they went the narrower the streets and the more the air felt like it was coming straight out of a dumpster. The smell was not surprising, everywhere around the car were large piles of garbage, some neatly packed in huge plastic bags, but most of it was just open and bare.

On the parts of the street where a shadow would keep you cool, people seemed to work. They were mostly children and they seemed to be sorting the garbage.

The car was moving slow enough that she could see their faces and their dirtied hands. But despite their poor conditions some of the were laughing.

An odd question wormed its way through, when was the last time she had laughed?

The question caught her off guard and the rest of the trip, she was no longer focused on what happened outside.

That was until they stopped halfway through a dead-end street. "Renée." Mouhammed said, unlocking her door. The rest of his words didn't matter, she understood what she needed to do.

There was a small moment in which she had thoughts of running away.

But she had nowhere to go.

She wasn't going to cry.

Mouhammed grabbed her upper arm and guided her to a door. He knocked eight times. She would've asked why, but he wouldn't be able to answer…

Renée heard screams and shouts from behind the door, if she focused enough she would've heard three different girls. Yet the door was opened by a large buxom woman. The woman was at least as tall as Mouhammed, maybe taller. Renée didn't bother registering that, all she saw were stone cold eyes.

The woman and Mouhammed exchanged words, it sounded like a heated discussion, but their body language didn't express that.

The two other men that been in the car with her opened the trunk and retrieved a case, they taller one; the one that had been driving, gave the suitcase to the woman. She opened it, inspected what was inside, and gave the man a nod.

More words were exchanged and then Mouhammed let go of her. And just like that the three men got into the car and Renée was hurried inside.

The door closed behind her, she heard the car's engine start again. Renée breathed deeply. 'Just accept the situation as it is.'

The woman walked in front of her, and Renée was clearly expected to follow behind her. The inside of the house wasn't as bad as the outside made her think. It was clean and the floor had rugs with red and blue patterns on it. It showed some wear and tear but overall the hall looked fine.

Renée tried to keep up with the large woman, but her legs had a hard time. Showing weakness would do her no good, so she bit the inside of her cheek and continued with an increased pace.

As they walked she passed girls that stared at her as if she was a ray of light hitting the floor and they were the cats ready to play. But Renée held her head high and her pace fast.

All the while a mantra in her head was chanting to not show weaknesses.

Not to herself, she was perfectly fine.

Not to the girls, she might be smaller but she was stronger.

Not to the woman, she could -not- keep up.

She wasn't weak. The woman started to talk, pointing at things. It must've been important; but Renée just didn't understand a word. With the girls all around the house, she had seen nine so far, staring at her; searching for signs of weakness, she held her mouth shut.

After all, she wouldn't stay here long enough for those things to matter.

Egypt had embassy's right?

The woman stopped walking after three flights of stairs. She said something and motioned to a makeshift bed, just a few planks and a thin sheet and pillow.

The woman gave her a stern look, and slowly said something, the tone ending with a clear question. Renée wanted to answer, if only she knew what the question was.

So instead she nodded and sat on her 'bed'.

The woman seemed pleased enough with that. And started to rattle off more. If her face wasn't too tired to look questioning or dumbfounded the woman might have noticed that something was off, but as Renée laid down it didn't take more than two blinks of her eyes before she was asleep.

There was a hand on her shoulder.

Renée shot upright.

The girl whose hand had touched Renée took a step back and started to talk.

Knowing she didn't understand a word, Renée tuned her out. There was a small window on this floor, about twenty beds, some nicer than hers, others the same. Looking outside was nigh impossible from her bed, she was nearly at the opposite side of the room.

The girl grabbed her hand, dragging her along, Renée's first instinct was to bat it away, but she followed behind the girl anyway. When she started walking down the stairs she let go. She hadn't noticed before, but the stairs looked like they had seen better days. They were made of stone and sturdy, but bits and pieces seemed missing and a few lines looked dangerously close to crack.

She followed the girl all the way down and through a hall, until they reached a small room. It was full with young girls, yet no one was speaking. The girls were sitting at the edge of the carpet, their backs against the wall, a big bowl filled with green soup; and the girl that had dragged her down here pushed her down to sit with them.

The large woman came in from behind, having walked up the stairs with three enormous white, round breads on a plate.

The smell of the green soup was pretty good, and Renée felt her stomach clenching. She was hungry. Thirsty.

The plate was put on the carpet next to the soup and the large woman sat down between two of the girls.

And started praying.

There was a string of words she didn't understand, but the children were all silent and clasped their hands together. Renée followed suit, lest she be denied the food.

"Amen." the woman ended. now there was a word Renée did know.

"Amen." Renee repeated, along with the others.

She wasn't sure how this was going to work though, no one had her own plate… and there were no spoons. But as soon as the large women and two of the taller girls picked up the bread and started tearing chunks of it and passed them around it clicked. And as soon as she got her own piece she reached out her arm to dip it into the soup.

A painful slap on the hand stopped her just before she managed to do that. It was the large woman. She started talking again. Renée was unsure, and under the stares of all the girls around her she felt so small. she backed away.

Turned out, the large woman was supposed to go first.

But quickly after that, this time with more pieces of bread tucked in her hands, Renée hardly chewed or waited till she swallowed before dipping her next piece of bread.

She didn't even notice the girls laughing, or the eyes of the large woman looking at her as if she was disgusted by what she saw.

Renée just ate, it was warm and the taste! She devoured everything, as much as she could. as quickly as she could.

She'd forgotten food was supposed to taste good.

For a short little while, she didn't think about… until she realized she didn't and it all hit her twice as hard. And by the time she'd dragged herself out of that… was the time she was lying in bed.

Had someone carried her?

She wasn't tired. Even though it was clearly late in the evening, darkness had fallen, and to her own surprise she welcomed the night. The girls she had seen during dinner were now all in their own beds. soundly asleep

Renée sat up and looked around. The window was more of an open space, the cold coming through it was touching her skin. It must've been freezing closer to it than from the distance she had been. All the girls were silently lying in their bed, if she wanted to make it to an embassy, this was her time to escape, out the window and then hoping she had a little bit of luck.

She was no longer wearing her own clothes, she noticed as she stepped out of her bed, she was now wearing a long t-shirt that reached to her knees. She didn't care much for it, but it was obviously too cold outside for her to run around in just an oversized shirt.

Looking around she saw that some of the girls had their pants neatly folded in a small stack next to or under their beds.

She stole the one of a girl across from her bed, she would've apologized, but she needed it more than that girl did right now. She also stole the girl's' shoes, even though there were holes in the sole. Bad footwear won over no footwear at all.

Silently, the sound of her footsteps dampened by the many carpets spread over the floor, she made her way past the many sorry excuses for beds and climbed up to the window space-

She was stopped, a surprisingly strong hold on her wrist, the large bread-girl stood just behind her. How had she not noticed that?

The girl dragged her, first she fell on the ground, and with only one arm to break her landing she audibly popped her wrist. -that hurt-

The girl kept on dragging her along, Renée had a rough time keeping up, there was no escaping the grip, she was soo much smaller, and weaker, and she couldn't keep up. She had to jump some of the steps not to fall flat on her face again.

She was dragged down even further and the girl was as quick turning the corner as she was with her steps. Renée's face nearly slammed into the wall, had she not pushed herself with her sprained but free hand. Rather hurt her hand then her face.

In the end she was dragged all the way to the back of the ground floor, the girl stopped at a door opening without a door, but with strings of beads. She was calling a name.

"Oom Oumaima" She repeated, twice, thrice, four times.

Renée didn't try to fight the monstrous grip on her wrist. she'd had one chance… and screwed it up.

"Oom Oumaima" fifth time. And this time the beads clashed into each other as the large woman passed them.

The woman looked a whole lot older right now, Renée hadn't realized just how much make-up the woman had been wearing. But right now she hardly had any eyebrow, and her eyes were way less dramatic than earlier. But the added years also added a dangerous glint of anger.

The girl started talking, she was quick and jerked Renées arm a few times as if to prove something. Oom Oumaima asked short tense questions before taking Renée out of the girls' hands.

If Renée had any hope of getting treated kinder by the large woman than by the girl, she was sorely mistaken. The woman took her hands in one of her own, god her hands were tiny in comparison, grabbed her slipper and smacked the insides of her hand with them.

She didn't talk.

She didn't have to, the message was clear, but Oom Oumaima wasn't done, her hands were red when she was.

Renée was hurt, but she refused to cry, she kept looking the woman in the eyes with her own. She wouldn't admit weakness. not when someone could see it.

She was released, and Oom Oumaima said something to the other girl. who motioned for Renée to come, the look on her face wasn't gentle, but it wasn't as stone cold as before either. Renée followed her, up the stairs and back to the room.

All the girls were chattering, some of them no longer in their beds. When Renée walked in they all stared at her. And started talking among themselves even more animatedly.

Renée ignored them as she took off her shoes and pants, dropped them in front of the girl she'd stolen them from, her hands nearly refusing through the pain.

But she wouldn't show weakness.

Not if anyone could see it.

She went back to bed, wrapping herself in the cloth that was supposed to act as a blanket, her head in her pillow, facing the wall. Tears streaming down her face. But she was quiet. And the girls became so as well, eventually.

One of her tears fell on the wooden plank.

Drip.


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N from SHIELD Super Nanny:**

This is the start of Part 2 of the Project, and thankfully from here things begin to get a bit better for our Heroine. For those of you who share our hatred of Jean Luc, he will get what's coming to him. Probably. And the twins... Going to be a bit longer until they see each other again. For now its time for Renee to learn that there is a world beyond her brother...

~~~-/-~~~

 **Chapter 13: Shattered**

 **by Ally**

"They who go

Feel not the pain of parting; it is they

Who stay behind that suffer."

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

~-\\-~

Fatima watched the other girls eat with no small amount of trepidation. They sat in a long line, backs resting against the wall, munching on thick, flat breads covered in honey.

It was a sticky luxury they hardly ever enjoyed and everyone was tucking in with relish. Fatima knew she should eat too, but she didn't have the stomach for it. She turned the bread over and over in her hands, lost in thought.

It had barely been a day, but she was unable to stop thinking about the new arrival. It was hard not to, when everyone kept talking about her.

"The window? Why would she try to climb out the window?" Lima was the smallest girl in the house, barely in her fourth summer. Her question was guileless, little voice sounding confused more than anything else.

Ubaid leaned over and thumped her head with a sneer, "Don't be stupid. You saw her eyes, little cricket."

Lima squawked indignantly, batting away the hand with a tiny fist, "Don't call me that!"

"What do her eyes have to do with anything?" Yadira asked from the other end of the line.

Ubaid had pulled Lima forward, wrestling the smaller girl down. Acenath elbowed Ubaid in irritation when the scuffle knocked into her side.

"Silence," Oom Oumaima didn't raise her voice, didn't even look up from the paperwork in her hands.

The effect was immediate.

All the girls broke apart, backs straightening to lean against the wall once more. Silence descended on the gathering, and the soft sounds of chewing and drinking filled the room until Oom Oumaima finished her bread and stood, exiting the room with a sigh, papers in hand.

The silence lasted a moment longer, eventually breaking when Menefer leaned over to whisper "What was wrong with her eyes? I didn't see."

"They were pretty!" Lima offered immediately.

Ubaid scoffed, tossing her braid over her shoulder. "You think everything's pretty."

"I don't think _you're_ pretty!"

The girls laughed as Ubaid made a grab for the little one. Lima leaned away and Ubaid gave up, turning back to her breakfast with a sour expression.

Fatima frowned, staring down at the bread in her hands. The girl with the demon eyes had tried to escape. She hadn't even been at The Castle for a full day and she'd still tried to escape. Maybe...

"Was she blind or something? What was wrong with her eyes?" Menefer pressed, curiosity driving her.

"They were pretty," Lima emphasized, clearly expecting an argument otherwise.

"They were _black,_ " Nenet said lowly, shuddering.

Menefer tilted her head to the side in confusion. "She was injured?"

"No," Ubaid cut in. "They were black eyes. The _whole_ eyes, even the white parts. All a dark color. And," she continued with a kind of delighted disgust, "It looked like she was _born_ with it."

Fatima's heart stuttered in her chest, the bread in her hands almost crumbling under the sudden pressure of her grip.

 _A birth defect._

The thought hung in the air, unspoken, and Fatima pretended not to notice when several heads turned to give her a speculative look.

Acenath leaned forward and grabbed the last slice of bread, using it to scrape the bottom of the honey pot, blithely ignoring the sudden tension in the room.

"But why did she climb out the window?" Lima asked again, voice softer.

"She didn't, dummy. She was too stupid to get that far."

"She's not stupid!" Lima's voice was shrill, tiny cheeks puffing up with indignation.

"How would you know?" Nenet scoffed, licking honey from her fingertips. "You didn't even talk to her."

"You _can't_ talk to her. She doesn't speak Arabic," Jahzara added confidently. "I thought as such, so I only said silly things to her yesterday. She didn't even notice. I think she's just copying what we all do without understanding what we say."

"See?" Ubaid turned her chin up with a haughty sniff. " _Stupid._ "

Lima looked angry enough to cry, bottom lip jutting out and eyes shining in a wet glare. "She almost got out though, didn't she? She just got caught, is all."

Fatima closed her eyes, appetite gone. She tugged at the hem of her long dress, tucking her feet safely underneath it out of habit, and drawing her knees up to her chest.

The girls around her continued to gossip (with the exception of Acenath, who showed interest in nothing but food) and Fatima tuned them all out.

 _A birth defect._

The new girl wouldn't find a happy life in The Castle with something like that holding her back. Fatima swallowed down a surge of guilt at how _happy_ the news made her.

Finally, someone else like her.

Oom Oumaima came back in, clapping her hands once. Just like that the room was silent again.

"We're packing rounds and heading to the range. Fatima."

Fatima jerked, alarmed at being singled out. "Yes ma'am?"

"Go and wake up the lazy girl."

Fatima rose, bracing herself against the wall for balance. She walked down the line of girls headed toward the stairs, when suddenly a leg shot out in her path. Fatima stumbled, footing fouled by the obstacle and she nearly tumbled to her knees before she caught herself against the wall once more.

Her long dress had rucked up in the process, exposing her lumpy, deformed feet.

Several of the girls snickered into their hands and Fatima felt her face burn. She turned back to watch Ubaid slowly draw her leg up again.

"Oops," Ubaid met her eyes with an unapologetic grin.

Fatima ducked her head, and walked on.

The girls waited quietly, lined up against the wall. Oom Oumaima stood in front of them, foot tapping impatiently.

After only a minute, Fatima's distinctive _drag-thump_ gait could be heard coming down the stairs at an urgent pace.

Fatima made it to the bottom and hurried toward the rest of them with a panicked look.

"What is it?" Oom Oumaima prompted, arms uncrossing.

"She won't wake up."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"I-...she's sick. I think. She's really hot and even when I shook her, she wouldn't wake up," Fatima babbled nervously.

Oom Oumaima's eyes widened briefly in shock before she pushed Fatima aside in her haste to climb the stairs.

~-\\-~

Renee opened her eyes to the strangest scene.

She was standing in the bayou.

She could smell the mud, could hear the cicadas buzzing, could feel the damp heat on her skin. She had one brief moment of perfect confusion. The tiniest instant to wonder how she'd returned to Louisiana, to wonder why the bayou felt so strange, so still and so wrong. Then the pain came and she no longer cared.

Renee fell to the ground with a wet squelch, the impact jarring her legs, causing her to sprawl on her hands and knees.

Her head was screaming at her, pounding so loud that she couldn't think, couldn't see.

It felt like someone had taken a large vice to her head, squeezing and crushing her brain inside her skull.

She panted in that position, trying to wait out the pain, to let it lessen until she could think again.

It didn't lessen.

Waves of pain spiked between her temples until Renee screwed her eyes shut and cried.

Her hands started curling into fists, warm mud squeezing between her fingers.

The pain was flaring, hot and sharp, and bright spots began to dance behind her eyelids. It felt like someone had cracked open her skull and poured a cup of lava inside, sloshing from one end of her head to the other in a continuous flow of agony.

The warmth of it spread a burning path down her spine, and Renee arched her back, crying out and falling forward.

She was seizing, mud and sticks flying everywhere as her body jerked and spasmed. The fire in her spine lanced down, hitting her chest and spreading out like fire, like ice.

It was suffering in its purest form.

She was pain.

The pain was her.

There hadn't ever been anything before the pain. There would never be anything after it.

Each second that passed increased the pain, never reaching a summit, always climbing, always cresting to a new height of torture.

After a timeless stretch of torment it finally started to creep away from her spine, though it still lingered in her chest and skull.

It was as if the pain were condensing in those two spots, hardening and building.

It built and built, higher and higher.

Her eyes rolled around, head twitching beyond control.

It felt like it was building up pressure.

There was a brief moment of clarity right before the end, a fleeting instant where her mind returned just enough for her to realize that she was going to die again.

And this time, her only thought was _Finally._

No anger, no fear. Only anticipation, only desire for release.

It built and built, tightening and condensing until it surpassed all limits, until surely Renee was going to burst from it. And then-

The pressure snapped.

Pain rushed out of her, not in a tide or in a slow trickle. It rushed out of her in a great, gaping vacuum. From one moment to the next, there was pain and then suddenly there _wasn't._

There was only the void.

~-\\-~

Jean-Luc drove up the long road with his window rolled down, enjoying the way the breeze stirred against his face. He rounded the last bend of the drive, passing under a row of large pecan trees that formed an archway.

The stately manor the Thieves Guild called home stood at the end of the drive and the instant Jean-Luc set eyes on it, a swear sprang from his lips.

He pressed the gas pedal harder, urging the old truck forward.

Every damn light in the whole place was on.

He hadn't even pulled up to the side of the house before the rumble of his truck brought a handful of Thieves out onto the porch, waving him down with frantic arm motions, and Jean-Luc bumped it up from ' _something's wrong'_ to _'something's_ _ **fucked**_ _'._

Jean-Luc whipped the truck into a spot with a squeal of tires, and jumped clear of his seat without even turning the vehicle off.

"Report!" he yelled at the nearest boy, a teenager by the name of Reece. Jean-Luc took the steps two at a time and Reece fell in behind him.

"It's Remy, boss."

Jean-Luc didn't wait for more.

He threw his shoulder into the door, throwing it open with enough force that it banged against the wall. Anyone who stood in his way was pushed in much the same manner. Jean-Luc sprinted from the door, down the hallway and toward the stairs. Halfway there he started to hear the screams.

His feet were barely touching the floor. He made it to Remy's bedroom faster than thought, kicking the door out of the way in a haze, adrenaline pounding through his veins.

The scene in that room would feature prominently in his nightmares for years to come.

Oliver was braced in between Remy and the headboard, thick ropes of muscle corded in sharp relief as he held the boy around the shoulders. Marie was holding Remy's face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she begged for the boy to respond, to speak, to give them some way to help. Bernard was laying across Remy's legs, pinning them to the mattress.

And there, in the middle of it all, his son. His poor, baby boy.

Remy's whole body was tensed, as if electrocuted. His whole spine was arched off the mattress beneath him, straining up in a contorted tableau of agony. His tiny eyes were rolled back in his head, and white, frothy drool was foaming at the corners of his mouth, which was gaping open in a blood chilling scream.

Jean-Luc had never heard anything like it in his life.

It reached into the primal, hindbrain, and lit every danger sign. It was the sound of pure, undistilled, human suffering.

It wasn't a pitch. It wasn't even a proper note. It barely even sounded human.

It was air, forced through windpipes until Remy's voice was lost in the rattle, lost in the deafening shriek of it.

It would haunt Jean-Luc for the rest of his life.

"Remy!" Jean-Luc was at the bedside, stomach clenching in despair. His hands reached out to touch his son's face and Marie scrambled back to give Jean-Luc room.

"Jean! He needs an ambulance!" Oliver bellowed over the screams.

"What happened?" Jean-Luc yelled back, hands never leaving his son's head.

"He just started like this a couple minutes ago. He won't wake up. Won't talk. Just keeps screaming!"

"Did someone-"

"No!" Marie yelled next to his face. "I was here with him and Etienne the whole time, and nothing happened. We were reading a book, waiting for you to get in. He was _fine_ , then suddenly-" She made a shaky gesture at the boy.

"Jean! He needs-" Oliver grunted, cutting off short as Remy started bucking.

It was the worst moment of Jean-Luc's life, surpassing even the memory of Clemente dying in his arms.

Remy seized, squealing and shrieking as his body lurched under the adults with surprising strength. Jean-Luc could taste the tears in his mouth from where they ran freely down his face.

He would give anything to make it stop, would trade places with Remy in a heartbeat.

The feeling of that tiny body twisting and twitching beneath him was almost too much to bear.

"Jean-" before Oliver could continue, Remy's tiny body gave one mighty lurch. He strained so hard his whole back and shoulders arched away from the bed, bowing under the strain of it.

He stayed like that for a few seconds, suspended in a terrible rictus of pain, before suddenly falling limp.

It was as if all the strings holding him up had been cut, so sudden did it end.

The silence was deafening after the endless screaming.

There was a pregnant moment where no one moved, no one made a sound, as if waiting for the episode to start over again. The spell ended with a small sniffling noise that built into full blown sobs as Marie collapsed against the bed, weeping.

Oliver, Bernard, and Remy were all covered in a thick sheen of sweat. Both the grown men were panting.

"Is he- is he-" Jean-Luc couldn't get the words out, his throat deciding to seize up on him instead.

"No," Oliver shook his head tiredly. "He's breathing."

Jean-Luc made a broken noise and started to climb up the bed next to Remy. Bodies shifted out of his way until Jean-Luc was the only one left, cradling Remy's slight frame against his chest.

"What happened?" Jean-Luc couldn't stop the terror, couldn't slow down his beating heart.

Oliver stared at him, unable to answer.

~-\\-~

Renee blinked up at the ceiling.

She had just been in a bayou…

She tried to sit up but her body wouldn't cooperate. It felt like someone had poured fire whiskey down her throat. Each breath she took rubbed it raw, until it hurt to breath or swallow.

Her muscles were tired and sore, her whole body felt like one giant bruise.

Eventually, after blinking enough, her fuzzy surroundings started to clear, revealing the stern woman from the day before. Oom something.

She was leaned over Renee, speaking urgently, and her hands were pushing Renee's shoulders down into the mattress, preventing her from sitting up.

Renee gave up immediately, too tired to fight it.

She turned her head to the side and caught sight of a dozen scared looking faces, all girls.

She was so tired.

The Oom woman was standing up, yelling at the girls. A brief discussion took place before all of the girls filed out of the room, one by one.

Renee watched them go, seconds away from falling asleep.

Fingers carded gently through Renee's sweaty hair, turning her head back until she faced Oom Oumaima once more.

Oom Oumaima had an almost tender look on her face as she spoke a few more words. Finally, the woman straightened and walked to the door, grabbing a rifle that had been propped up against the wall there.

Renee hadn't even noticed the gun.

She closed her eyes and listened to the woman's footsteps retreating down the hallway. She was asleep within seconds.

~-\\-~

Renée drifted in and out of consciousness the rest of the day. Snippets of wakefulness came in short bursts.

A girl rummaging through a dresser against the far wall.

Some kind of horns trumpeting outside, somewhere in the distance.

Each time she opened her eyes the shadows had moved, marking the passage of the sun.

She opened her eyes at last to see the room bathed in a dark, golden glow. Sitting up made her back and shoulders groan in protest.

Renée took it slowly, cataloging each ache with a clinical detachment. She'd had worse, far worse. As a matter of fact, Renée felt pretty well aside from the soreness and the scratchy throat.

There was a strange sort of lightness to her body, like the first day after waking from a long sickness.

Renée's first instinct was to reject the feeling. How long had it been since she'd felt unburdened?

She swung her legs to the side of the bed, testing the strength in her legs slowly. She was nearly out of the bed when a small noise made her freeze, tensing up.

Across the room, several beds over sat a girl with dark hair. She watched Renée with a guarded expression, dark eyes wide and unblinking.

Renée met her gaze calmly, showing none of her shock.

She hadn't felt anyone else in the room. She hadn't _felt_ anyone else.

Renée slowly lowered both feet and straightened. With a deep, meditative breath, Renée delved into her mental domain. She gingerly tested the barriers erected long ago, shielding her mind from the constant onslaught of emotions.

It was intact.

It was more than intact.

It was _perfect._

It had taken her years of practice to block people out, to protect her mind from the daily feedback of pure emotional sensation. Her solution had been to erect a wall in her mind, a visualized barrier between her and everyone else.

It had taken a lot of effort and the results were mixed. Things got harder to block out the more emotional she became, but she had never given up hope that relief from the constant empathy was possible.

But it was something so much greater now. Before her barrier had been like one of the levees back in New Orleans, short and precarious, always threatening to burst. It towered across her mindscape now, a monolith of impenetrable fortitude.

It felt solid and unbendable.

Nothing leaked through. Standing there with her eyes closed, Renée could barely stop her hands from shaking. Her head was quiet in a way it hadn't been for a very long time. Intellectually, she knew the other girl was still in the room.

But for one blessed moment, Renée could believe she was finally, truly alone.

A smile broke across her face against her will. First she bit her lip, then grinned. A giggle started to bubble out, the first small swell of joy building in her chest until it trickled over.

The spell broke when the other girl called out loudly, voice carrying across the room and through the open door.

Renée's eyes opened and for the first time in a long time she didn't feel afraid. Whatever came next, she would handle it.

She listened curiously as footsteps approached, the words having obviously been some kind of summons. Renée watched the doorway, eyes alight with anticipation. She couldn't remember the last time she didn't know _exactly_ who was about to walk into a room.

A tall, bored looking teenager walked in, and Renée cracked a wide grin.

The two girls drew close to each other, eyeing her warily. They shared a small burst of conversation.

Renée shivered with delight. She had no idea what they were talking about.

It was freeing in a way she hadn't realized was possible.

Before, when she'd lived in Konoha, she'd always lived under the dictates of a horrible, impending future looming in the back of her thoughts and controlling her decisions. She'd awoken in this new life without a 'plot' to follow and had foolishly thought that meant freedom.

She now understood that rampant empathy had been it's own kind of foresight, giving her a horrible window into each interaction that had been subtly weighing her down, holding her back.

But she was free.

She was really _free._

Renée tossed her head back and laughed.

~-\\-~

"What's she been doing?" Acenath eyed the red head with caution.

"Nothing," Fatima couldn't tear her eyes away from the laughing girl. Was she crazy? Touched in the head? Perhaps she was in the grips of some kind of hysterics. "She got up, then she just started…" Fatima trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the girl.

Acenath grunted, but didn't reply.

The girl's laughter petered out, but her smile remained, open and warm. She walked around her bed and started toward the two girls. Acenath moved to block Fatima from view and held up a hand.

"Stop, girl," Acenath knew she wouldn't understand the words, but her tone and gesture proved universal.

The girl halted, head canting to the side in silent question.

"Ace, I don't think she's dangerous," Fatima watched the girl's eyes, fascinated. The green irises bounced back and forth between the two of them, following each as they spoke.

Acenath didn't acknowledge her opinion. She stepped forward slowly, holding out a hand.

"Come with me. You need to eat," Acenath beckoned at the girl, waiting for her to comprehend.

The red-head looked down at the older girl's hand and spoke softly in a language Fatima didn't recognize. She hesitated, then slowly raised her hand to point at her chest.

"Renée," she told them softly.

Fatima straightened. _Was the girl telling them her name?_

"Come," Acenath frowned, beckoning insistently with her outstretched hand.

"Renée," she repeated it, louder.

"Fatima."

Both the other girls swung around to watch Fatima as she gestured to her own chest.

Renée - because Fatima was right, that _was_ her name - nodded slowly, grin reforming. She looked much younger when she smiled, the happy creases that formed around her eyes ruining the demonic picture. She could have been any five year old with a smile like that.

"Fatima," the strange girl repeated her name softly, nodding her head.

Fatima grinned back.

"Come, Renée," Acenath grabbed Renée's hand and tugged, apparently having had enough of the little introductions. Renée allowed the older girl to guide her out of the room and down the stairs.

Fatima smiled, wrapping her arms around herself and flopping back against her pillow with a contented sigh.

~-\\-~

Oliver leaning against the door frame, utterly exhausted. He watched the two figures on the bed as they slept. Remy's breath was slow and fitful, rattling in his chest in a way that made Oliver's heart clench in fright.

Jean-Luc lay beside him, body curled possessively around the little boy. There were tear tracks dried on his face and his long brown hair had pulled free from it's tail, spilling out messily on the bed around them.

It had been nearly a day since Remy had terrified them all with his fit.

He'd only had the one, and it had only lasted ten minutes or so. Long enough to make them scared, long enough to scar them for the rest of their lives.

The hours that followed were almost worse.

The family doctor had arrived shortly after he'd been called, prompt as ever when the Guild requested his services.

He'd been baffled by Remy's episode, offering to stay on for a day to observe the boy further.

By the ten hour mark Remy still hadn't moved, hadn't even stirred, and a slower, deeper dread began to fill the manor.

Marie had woken Etienne early that morning, taking him and the other young Thieves on an outing, hoping to spare them from the ordeal.

Jean-Luc hadn't left Remy's bed. He'd been eerily reserved the whole time, stroking Remy's hair and humming tunelessly.

Oliver had tried to draw him away at midday when the client reports started filing in, but Jean-Luc didn't stir, didn't even acknowledge that he'd spoken.

Oliver sent everyone from the room, locking the door behind them and heading to the office himself.

Doctor Parson stayed on, having claimed a room near Remy, stating he only wanted a quick nap but to wake him should any change occur.

It didn't.

Remy remained in that same position, breath scraping in and out of his chest in fitful bursts.

Oliver sorted the flow of affairs to his best ability, but he wasn't Jean-Luc. This pattern wouldn't hold longer than the rest of the day.

He'd returned to the room with every intention of dragging the Father of the Thieves out by force, but he never made it past the doorway.

Oliver stared numbly at the two of them, the day weighing heavily on his shoulders.

After a final weary sigh, Oliver turned off the lights and softly shut the door.

One more night. He couldn't run the Guild forever, but he could give Jean one more night. He prayed that would be enough.

~~~-\\-~~~


	15. Chapter 14

**IMPORTANT:** Next Update, this story will be changing its title from the Great Marvel Project to **Waking to Sunset**

 **Chapter 14**

 **by MisteriosaSaky**

~-\\-~

Renee wasn't quite sure what to think of this place. All she could say for certain was that it was strange. Not necessarily in a good or bad way, just strange. Between the new language and the way people acted, she might as well have died and been reborn again into a new place.

It was confusing, but also relaxing, eating with others... The girls, and Fatima trying to be helpful, so sweet, she didn't have the heart to tell her it's a bit much at times.

If only she could tell them, their help while nice, wasn't needed. She might be small, but that meant very little. She had done this before. She had forgotten more about how to live than these girls could ever learn. She could manage another go at this growing up thing.

A foreign place?

A foreign language?

This was easy.

This time she was older. She could ask for help with gestures if needed, she accepted Fatima's help with a smile, amused at her antics but slowly, ever so slowly becoming fond of the girl.

~-\\-~

It had only been a day since she had that seizure.

Since she was free from the constant thrumming of the feelings people had around her.

She felt free, and yesterday she had celebrated it, the girls around her didn't understand, and if it was up to her, they never would.

This was a new chance, New Orleans was literally a continent away.

Remy was a continent away.

Jean-luc.. was a continent away. And she had to think he was taking good care of her baby brother. Because… freedom was nice.

She'd find him later.

Besides, she'd felt better now.. with the distance between them. Maybe Remy did too, maybe Jean-luc was right?

Maybe.

~-\\-~

Fatima was showing Renée the block they lived when they almost literally bumped into Nenet.

"So… this is the new girl?"

"Y-Yeah, That's Renée," Fatima said, turning around to face the redhead, "Renée, this is Nenet, say hi Renée"

Renée smiled and give a lazy wave

"Is she stupid?" Nenet asked in a whisper, "Why doesn't she talk?"

"She doesn't understand us, she's only trying to fit in" Fatima whispered back. The whispering was useless, Renée could hear them just fine, but didn't understand them anyway.

Nenet took a small step back and crossed her arms, a sudden haughty look coming over her.

"Well, isn't that funny. Fatima talking about fitting in, a cripple leading a dumb, ugly, donkey."

"I-..." Fatima looked back towards the new, girl. Renée couldn't defend herself from nasty words like that.

Fatima knew she wasn't like the rest of the girls, their words, while mean; were true. But that didn't mean they could talk about Renée like that.

Didn't mean Nenet could talk like that.

Fatima squared her shoulders and faced Nenet, whom was acting as nothing more than a bully, "She's not stupid, and she is not ugly! She is probably smarter than you!"

Nenet, not used to being talked back at, raised her hand dangerously.

"Don't." Renée said in English. Her hand stopping Nenet.

"W-wha? Let me go! Donkey"

"Don't"

"W-what are you saying, I don't get it" Nenet tried to wiggle her arm back, to regain control. "Fatima, what is she saying?" She demanded, though to Fatima's ears it sounded a lot like pleading.

"I-I think she is saying no?"

"Okay! Okay, I won't hurt her, just let me go!" Nenet huffed out.

Renee let go.

And Nenet quickly held her wrist, it didn't hurt; but she'd rather protect it.

Renée's eyes glistened, but the rest of her face seemed eerily blank, until she turned around to face Fatima, petting her on the head with a wide grin.

Fatima wasn't sure what just happened.

And seemingly neither was Nenet. "I'm.. Sorry?"

Renée nodded, and Fatima felt a smile creeping up her expression. "It's ok."

As Nenet walked back, Fatima felt a hand on her shoulder, the grip was soft…

"Are you trying to comfort me?"

But Renée stayed silent.. The hand resting on Fatima's shoulder told her enough.

She was.

~-\\-~

Fatima had dragged Renée to the classroom on the first floor when the bell rang.

"We're going to class." Fatima explained, her words slow, so Renée could pick them up.

As they entered the room the overwhelming smell of old stuff hit them and Fatima had to force herself to inhale the air. they walked to the second bench, normally Fatima sat there alone, but with Renée here.

"We can sit together."

Renée gave her a look, it seemed that she didn't like the smell of old books either. Her nose seemed to move, and Fatima had to hold her giggle, cause that would've been rude.

As they sat down, one of the older girls- they helped Oom teaching, looked at her, then Renée and then quickly started talking to Oom Oumaima.

"Oom Oumaima, are you sure the girl should join us, she can't even talk, she'll only become a burden and slow us down?"

"I am sure, Ubaid. She'll learn eventually, all children do, given time."

Fatima nearly stood up in shock when from behind her Lima started yelling. "I can help her! I can be her teacher! Please Oom, please?"

"No way!" Fatima said possessively, Renée was going to be her friend… Lima had enough friends of her own. She didn't also get to have her.

Thankfully Ubaid stopped Lima's claim. "You can't Lima..."

"W-wha? Why not?!" Lima asked giving the "I can get away with everything-look". It was a look she'd mastered well over the years, she was probably the best at it in the entire Castle.

Oom Oumaima leveled her one of those looks. "Because to teach, you need to know a subject inside out. And while you're a smart girl, you're not quite there yet, are you?"

"No.. But the next new girl, if I try my best at reading, I can help her?"

"We'll see Lima."

Fatima exhaled, a smile on her lips "That was close."

There was a beat of silence as Oom claimed all attention by grabbing the chalk and turning around to face the blackboard..

"Today we will go over the alphabet again. " Oom oumaima said. "I expect you all to pair up, one older girl and one younger."

Fatima quickly walked to the front of the class to grab two pieces of paper and pencils. As she hurried her way back she saw Renée almost glaring a hole into the blackboard on which Oom was writing.

"Here Renée, you can use these." Fatima pushed the writing materials in front of her.

Renée took the pencil in her hand and turned the paper so it was slightly tilted to the left. And slowly she started to copy what Oom was writing on the board. Only she did it from left to right.

"That's odd…" Fatima stopped Renée halfway through her third drawing. She grabbed her own pencil and showed Renée that she had to start in the right corner and go left. "See, right to left."

She had to show it twice, but it seemed like Renée understood. "Good." Fatima complimented.

When they had copied the entire alphabet Oom started walking around, looking at their progress. She didn't comment on what they did… But Fatima knew that no comment was a good thing - it meant they hadn't screwed up.

Pointing to the first symbol, a straight line with a squiggly thingy on top. "This is the letter A, but you say Alif." Fatima waited for Renée to say the word.

"Oh, of course, whole sentences are difficult." Fatima pointed to the first symbol. "Alif"

"Alief" Renée tried out.

"Alif." Fatima encouraged.

"Aalif." Renee shook her head. "Alif."

"Good!" Fatima exclaimed happily. "Now this is the second symbol, the letter B, we call it Bã…. Bã"

"Baah" Renee repeated. "Bah. Bã"

And so it went the entire lesson. right up to the end.

"Ok, everyone put down your pencils. I am proud to see you've all worked hard, You're making Mister Farouk proud." Oom Oumaima walked towards the blackboard and pointed to the letters.

"Now, we're going to sing the alphabet."

Fatima liked these parts of reading and writing the most. and heartily sang along. Renée was quiet, just watching and listening to what was happening around her.

When the lesson ended after singing the song twice, it was time for lunch. Fatima grabbed Renée's hand to guide her, but Renée signed her not to. She took the paper on which they had copied the alphabet, and on which she had scribbled the song- wait, when had Renée done that?- And neatly folded it twice and putting it in her pocket. Then she took Fatima's hand and they rushed out.

~-\\-~

Three days later, Fatima got a hint of just how hard her new friend was working to learn their language. The day had started normally enough. She'd woken up to find Renee sitting on her bed, mouthing along to the letters on her paper. They'd gone downstairs for breakfast, one hour to stretch their legs… and then they'd had lessons again.

"Everyone take out your papers, we'll begin with the alphabet and go up from there."

One by one, Oom had the younger children call out different words on the board, pointing at every symbol and correcting the girls as they went. They did this twice, and then the girls were asked to read out loud from Oom's big wall hanging. It was a simple tapestry, with minimal decoration, but it had Oumaima's favourite poem on. They each read a line, going from oldest to youngest. Only, when it was Lima's turn, another voice filled the room.

It was slow, calculated, and there was an odd lilt to the words, but every girl in the classroom understood each and every syllable.

"And then the wind of the desert blows, carrying the sadness and hate away from the town, the fight was over and the children could smile again."

There was a moment of silence and Renée let her shoulders sag. The words hadn't come naturally, but they had come. Fatima smiled awkwardly at her and Renee managed a faint smile back. Then the pair looked around the room at the others.

Everyone look shocked. The new girl had read, had read out loud and clearly. She probably didn't know what she had said, if the curious, confused and frustrated face she was sporting was any indication… But she had read almost perfectly. Not even a stutter.

"Good job" Oom Oumaima said, breaking the silence.

Renee smiled up at Oom - she knew when a compliment was given. Then the girls continued, but through the whole class they kept sneaking looks at the girl who was possibly not as stupid as they had first thought.

~-\\-~

"It's been almost a week, you can't keep this up Jean."

Jean snorted bitterly, not even bothering to look up from his uncomfortable chair. The hand clutching Remy's pale, tiny one, tightened briefly. "Do you expect me to forget about Remy, about my son, Oliver?"

"I never said that, but you do need to sleep, to eat. Remy needs you, Etienne needs you, the Guild needs you."

"I know, I know, it's just..." Jean let out a sigh and turned to the windows, running a hand through his hair. "It's my fault, I knew the girl, Remy's sister was important. I should have… Now look what has happened."

"You don't know if it's the girl's doing. We have not heard anything strange about her. It could be a fluke, or something else." Oliver said quietly. It was weak reassurance, and they both knew it.

"Strange?" Jean's lips thinned. "Strange is all the girl is! How could it be anyone else?"

"Don't -" Oliver started.

"But you heard the doctor! Remy is perfectly healthy, nothing is wrong with him," Jean turned and glared heatedly at his second in command. "Both of us know Remy is not normal. His differences don't stop at his eyes, hell, those are just the most obvious. That girl wasn't normal either! You've seen her, no 5 years old is as smart, as motivated as her. She managed to slip into one of the drop points! Found this place and bypassed the guards! And she found out where Remy was... She came so close..."

"I know, I was there. She tried to stab me, remember?"

The two shared a look. Jean's bitter and frustrated, Oliver's more understanding. They stood in silence for a moment, considering everything that had been happening.

Jean deflated, his posture, his whole attitude. He just slumped as a wave of sadness overcame him.

When Oliver spoke next, he was hesitant, uncertain. "She could have been trained by the assassins. It would explain why they wanted us to hand her over."

"She wasn't. That's one certainty."

"You can't be sure, you don't have proof."

"I don't need to, she wasn't assassin, she was too... too vengeful for that. She only wanted to be with her brother. She hated me, hated us, because we took him away from her. You didn't see her face before you put her to sleep. I didn't know a child could hate so deeply. She scared me for a moment - I felt as if she was burning with the intensity of her anger. I told her she was a parasite, that she was sucking Remy's happiness… The look she gave me in return..."

"She only wanted your sympathy, she was doing that on purpose. She wanted to make you suffer."

"Maybe, but the worst part is she might just have succeeded..."

~-\\-~

Fatima swung her legs thoughtfully as she waited for Renee to come back inside. Her new friend had taken to spending most of her time wandering around with a book - at least when they didn't have chores. Oom didn't say anything about it, but Fatima had caught her examining the books Renee had been reading. She got the impression that the woman approved. In fact, she seemed to be growing increasingly fond of Renee as the days passed.

Her fondness was only made more obvious by Oom's wish to keep her here while the rest of them had training.

'Renee looks fine now, she looks even better than when she got here… I know Oom Oumaima has said that she shouldn't train yet… And I understand why… It was so scary, her screams. I thought- I thought she was dying and then, two days later she was up again as if nothing had happened. I don't know what to think now. She's improving so fast…'

Almost as if she had sensed someone thinking about her, Renee came around the corner. Fatima blinked to see that she wasn't actually reading her book, she was staring at a spot on the page, her eyes unusually focused. It was as if she was considering something.

"Renee, this way." Fatima called and Renee changed her direction without once looking up from her book.

It looked like one of the maths books Oom kept for the older girls this time - Fatima didn't know what it was about - too many strange symbols. She was so busy squinting at the title, she almost missed Nenet trying to trip her. Fatima was about to call out, but Renee just kept walking, lifting her feet up before she got close to Nenet's large bag. The frustration from the other girl was enough to make Fatima have to fight hard to control her amusement. Renée, close enough to look up now, just gave her a puzzled look at her smothered snort.

'She does it so easily… almost as if they aren't even there, as if it doesn't matter to her what they do. I wish I had her strength, that I could be as strong as she is. It's just so hard sometimes… How does Renée do it?'

Fatima gave Renée one good look, observing their differences, why was she weak… and Renée, why was she so strong? There was a certain grace to her step, the way she walked, the way she held her head up. It… Fatima wanted to look like that. Graceful. Unafraid. Unashamed and certain of herself.

'How does she keep her head held high when they all look down on her? Why don't the stares bother her? Why do the stares bother me so much?'

Reaching out, she took Renee's hand and led her back towards the house. As she did so, she couldn't help but notice that the pale cast to Renee's face had gone and there was life in her face that hadn't been there before. It was almost like something inside her had flared to life, some spark that until now had been almost smothered.

In her more fanciful moments Fatima liked to compare it to the Light of the Lord, a warm flame that comforted the innocent and burned the wicked. But that was silly, why would God send someone just to be her friend?

But she thanked Him that night during the praying anyways.

~-\\-~

Another day soon was upon them, Renée was starting to like the rhythm of life in Cairo. The days were long and the nights were short but somehow… Somehow she felt more energized.

The moments outside, just walking and trying to talk with Fatima. She felt like a brand new version of herself, after the container… Well… That… She had just felt so tired afterward. And it wasn't all because of the lack of a blanket and the hard floor either. It had been something deeper than that.

But now… It was like… It was like the sun… The sun she had missed for so many dark days, had welcomed her back with open arms. She wanted to spend every moment soaking up the warmth she could and letting it chase away the chill in her bones.

She and Fatima were once again walking outside. Renée looked up, the sun was slowly rising and the orange light was reflected by everything.

"I like the sun." Renée said in her best Arabic. It came out slightly stilted, but Fatima nodded encouragingly. Renee grinned at her and raised her hands as if to hug the light.

Fatima started talking after that. Words strung together like beads on a chain. It all sounded beautiful, but she couldn't quite understand the words. But releasing the iron hold she had on her empathic ability allowed her to steal a glance at how Fatima felt.

She felt the same.

The moment was cut short when the bell rang, time for another lesson it seemed.

~-\\-~

"Well, today we are going to focus on maths."

Fatima looked around the classroom.

There was Menefer, the airheaded lovefool as Acenath called her. Always distracted by the specs of dust in the air, or the illusion of a boyfriend she had. Or maybe the girl was thinking about what she was going to cook tonight, her hands were making vague stirring motions after all.

Behind Menefer sat Ubaid, smug as ever. Always saying how she was the best in maths. Something Fatima could not deny no matter how much she wanted to. She was really good with her fractions and she understood how percentages worked. Fatima was just learning her 5 times tables.

Next to Ubaid sat Yadira. She was the girl who had first mentioned her club foot when she was brought to the Castle. As much as she didn't like Ubaid, she fostered something bigger for Yadira. Yadira could be mean - vicious even. The other times, she could be really nice. Only, those other times weren't when anyone else was around - and there almost always was.

But Fatima now had Renée.

And Renée seemed really interested in what Oom had written on the board. It was one of the problems for Ubaid. It was what Oom always prepared especially for her while the other younger girls would write down what Oom dictated.

"Renée?" Fatima nudged the girl in her side. "Do you understand that?"

"Un-der-stand?" Renée slowly repeated.

"Know." Fatima tapped the side of her head and pointed towards the board.

Grabbing a piece of paper from the stack on the edge of their desk and her own pencil, Renée started putting down letters and numbers.

"Oh." Fatima wondered. "I guess math is the same where you're from as well."

Fatima was so busy watching Renee write out her strange symbols, that she almost missed Oom coming over to their desk and frowning at them.

She grabbed the paper, and seemed to check it twice. She laid the piece of paper back on their desk and started writing furiously on the blackboard, and before long, a new mathematical problem was laid out. "Solve it."

Renee frowned, glancing towards the paper that Oom had just taken away. Slowly, she wrote at the top of the page a list of strange symbols, then the more familiar ones that Fatima recognised. Then she wrote out the problem again and began to work on it.

Fatima knew the look on Renée's face. It was the same she saw in the mirror when she was trying to get her hair to look good. Concentration and focus. The tip of her tongue poked stuck out slightly. A moment later she held the paper up. "Solve."

"I solved it." Oom corrected, taking the paper from Renée.

Fatima bit her lip nervously as Oom worked her way down the page. Her eyes kept flickering to the top of the page - presumably to the key that Renee had made. Eventually, she nodded and Renee smiled uncertainly.

"I solved it?" Renée repeated slowly, the raised octave near the end marking it a question.

"Yes."

Fatima relaxed as Oom considered Renée thoughtfully, glad that her friend hadn't messed up. When Oom went to the cupboard in the corner and pulled out a textbook, she blinked in surprise. Only the older girls got textbooks to work from!

A murmur seemed to slowly rise. The loudest of the girls was Ubaid. Fatima turned her head slightly to catch her face in the corner of her eye. If green was the color of envy, she was as green as the snake that had seduced Eve. It wasn't a pretty sight.

"But Oom! She's too stupid and she doesn't speak or read properly yet! How will she even know what the words mean?!"

Oom turned and scowled at Ubaid, making her shrink back into her seat. The muttered 'sorry' was very quiet. Fatima suddenly felt a little sorry of Ubaid. But only a little bit.

Renee was watching them, her dark eyes unreadable. For a second, Fatima thought she would say something but she just shook her head and flipped to the beginning of her new book and pulled a piece of paper towards her.

None of the girls in the class made another sound for the whole lesson.

~-\\-~

Leaving the classroom, Fatima couldn't help her small smile at having proved to everyone that they were wrong and that her new friend wasn't stupid. The older girls had disappeared quickly to do chores and boring things like that. Only she, Renee, Neneth, Yadira, Ubaid and Lima were left. Renee was looking a little distracted though.

"Renee?" Fatima asked, waving her hand in front of her face.

Her friend blinked at her, and then lifted her own hand to pat her on the head. Fatima gaped for a second, before sputtering.

"I am not a dog!"

Renee grinned at her, amusement dancing in her eyes. "No. Fatima is cute."

"She called you cute!" Lima said with a giggle.

"It's not funny, Lima! She always does that!" Fatima gestured to the smiling girl, pouting at the grin tugging at her friend's lips.

'I am supposed to be the one looking after her. She barely understands Arabic. I am older, I know this place better, but… Somehow, it's like is the other way around. I guess it feels nice to have someone trying to comfort me, someone who doesn't care about- about that, someone who thinks I'm cute, not some ugly monster… Just… me...'

"Hey! Hey! I can teach you! You're going to be my friend, right? You're going to follow me now yeah?" Lima asked with a grin, and Fatima felt he beginning curls of dread.

'No! She can't! She can't leave me for Lima! Everyone loves Lima – she has all the friends she needs already! Why does she need Renee too?'

"Fatima… my friend?" Renee said, confused at her wording "I-...you friend Fatima? I friend too." She finished, with a frown, her eyes going distant and her mouth turning downwards in a frown as she did when she struggled for words.

"But Fatima is stupid! And she can't walk!" Lima exclaimed with her usual bluntness.

Renee furrowed her brows, and then poked Lima's forehead. "Fatima is not stupid, she..." Renee closed her eyes and tilted her head, "Bad leg? Can walk."

"But she walks funny!" Lima stated, her eyes going ever so slightly watery as she pouted, "I don't want to be friends with her!"

"You are girl or boy?" Renee asked with amusement.

"Of course I am a girl!" Lima stated, puffing her cheeks out and pouting harder. She looked dangerously adorable. Surely... "I was born one!"

"Fatima too," Renee stated, the girls blinking at each other in surprise.

'She's comparing my birth defect with being born a girl? It's completely different! It is… right? Or… maybe is not? Someone can't choose to be born a girl or boy, and I didn't choose to be born looking like this… '

~-/-~

Remy was whimpering in pain. Jean-Luc jerked to attention - abruptly jolted back to alert at the first sign of life from his son - the first sign of life in more than three weeks.

"Remy! Remy, Chere, are you alright?" He questioned urgently.

Remy croaked slightly, sounding like he'd swallowed a mouthful of gravel before giving a hacking cough. Jean-Luc gestured sharply, and Oliver went into the bathroom, returning with a glass of water. Oliver gave the glass to the kid and he drank it in one go, his body shaking with his sobs.

"Pere, it's gone!"

Remy hugged himself, his whole body trembling and his skin pale. "I- I don't like it. It hurts. I want it back. Y-you're going to find it, right Pere, you are going to find it and it's going to be okay, right?" Remy gave his Pere a glassy, feverish stare.

Jean-Luc stared down at his son, confused. His words didn't make much sense and he shook his head slowly in confusion. Remy's upper lip trembled and he pressed his head against his knees.

"P-Pere, make it stop. It hurts. It hurts too much." He whimpered, "I don't like it, it doesn't stop. Make it stop Pere. Why won't it stop?"

Remy let out a gasping sob as Jean-Luc hovered uncertainly over him, reaching out to touch him for the first time since his son woke up. He recoiled quickly as Remy batted weakly at him.

"No! Don't get any closer!"

Exchanging worried looks, Jean Luc and Oliver took a few steps back and Remy began to breathe a bit easier. "I don't like it Pere, why it's not stopping? I- It's because it's missing? I can't make it stop, it's... not... working… anymore..."

His pained eyes closed as his words trailed off and he slipped back to sleep. Jean stepped forward before hurriedly retreating as his son let out a whimper. Turning, he looked at Oliver in bewilderment. His second in command shook his head.

"I think this goes beyond our Doctor's skills boss."

Jean's eyes seemed to freeze ice cold. "Then find someone who can help. I don't care who, just get someone. Am I understood?"

"Yes, boss."

~-/-~

"How is Remy?" Oliver asked, when he got back from terrifying the other thieves, "Is there any change?"

"He's feverish. He's been like this since he woke up." Jean said, his hand half reaching towards his son. As always, he pulled back quickly when Remy whimpered, "I can't even touch my son without him suffering; what the fuck did that girl do!?"

"I don't know, she definitely made it to our contact safely." Oliver answered quietly. His voice was low and tense.

"She didn't do anything on the journey?" Jean demanded, his voice a harsh growl.

Oliver didn't step back - but it was close. Jean had been in an increasingly bad mood since Remy had collapsed. He spent every spare moment he could with his son, and when he did talk to anyone other than Oliver, his words were clipped and harsh. Even with Oliver, he occasionally snapped out harsh words.

"We… we don't know. She spent most of the journey in a metal shipping crate. It was the only place they could stash her."

"Fuck. Then she could have done anything." Jean groaned tiredly, leaning back and rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

Remy stirred, shifting slightly with a whimper. Jean leaned forward before remembering himself and clutching the arm of his chair in a white knuckled grip.

"No! Don't leave me!"

"Chere, don't worry, I'll never leave you." Jean murmured gently, placing a hand on his hair. It didn't help, but this time Jean couldn't bring himself to pull back. It didn't seem to be making things worse anymore, but he was still hesitant.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Don't go, I'll be good." Remy's voice became a desperate plea.

"You _are_ good Chere, I'm not mad at you."

"Come back, don't leave me alone again. I need you, I'll be good. I'll be good, just come back, please!"

"Chere."

"Why you are not here, do you hate me? Come back, I'll be good"

Remy's pleas were getting more and more desperate and Jean felt his own fear growing in response.

"Chere, wake up"

"No! Shadow person! Come back please!"

Jean looked over to his second in command, a cold shiver racing down his spine. The fear in his heart solidified into a lump of icy terror.

"It is the girl."

"I know."

Jena grimaced, "When is that witch supposed to come?"

"In a few days."

"Make it hours. I don't care about the price; my son needs to get that cursed girl out of his head."


	16. Chapter 15

**IMPORTANT NOTE:** This story was formerly called 'The Great Marvel Project'. If you are unfamiliar with this, it is basically a collaborative writing piece. :) See the Super Nanny profile for more information.

 **.**

 **Chapter 15: Unravel**

 **By Opalalchemy**

Charles furrowed his brow at the onslaught of another headache. Black, green, and red. So much pain. Once he might have tried to help them, to search for them and help them with their abilities. But he now knew that dream of his was a fool's folly. Gripping his hands over the rubber and plastic, Charles Xavier wheeled past the unused classrooms and empty halls. He found Hank in the laboratory, immersed in a complex equation he'd put on the blackboard.

Crackle, rustle, crackle.

Hank jumped at the unexpected sound, turning the bracket he'd been writing into a symbol more representative of a square root with a high screech.

"Professor! I, uh, ahem. I wasn't expecting to see you. Um, so soon. Since it's early. Not because I don't expect to see you. Which I don't. Since you are busy. In your room. All day. Since the school closed."

The younger man rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, then visibly winced as he saw what Charles had rolled over to make the startling sound. A pile of Twinkie wrappers lying haphazardly next to the rubbish bin.

"Um, let me just clean that up." Hank moved forward before stumbling to a halt. "Ah, let me fix my parentheses…" Turning around, the young man fixed his mistake before hurrying back towards Charles and the multitude of wrappers littering the entryway.

"Sorry, uh, can I help you with something?"

Charles ran his hand through his hair and let out a deep breath.

"I want to walk again."

Silence filled the small room, as he'd known it would. Charles was tempted to read the surface of Dr. McCoy's thoughts on the matter but held himself back. One, it would invade the privacy of a good friend. Two, Charles could guess his thoughts on the matter even without a mutation. Three, Charles had enough of a headache already.

"Are you sure? The injury is in the spinal cord. Fixing it will block the receptors of several nerves your mutation needs to function. And who knows what the long term effects will be if—"

BANG! Charles slammed his fist down had on a nearby table.

"Damnit, Hank! I want to be free of this curse! What's the point of having it if… I keep dreaming. Of Eric and Raven. That day on the beach. Of black eyes with red and green pupils, staring at me from the shadows. Screaming in pain. But I can't help them, Hank. I don't even know where to begin to start with. I can't help anyone. And if I can't help anyone I may as well help myself. Give myself what I want. What I need. I want to walk, Doctor. I need to walk again."

"Alright. I'll start working on a serum."

~-/-~

The incandescent red, white, and blue of Captain America's shield softly lit the boy's face. Remy had fallen back to sleep after hours of whimpering and begging. To be so close to his son and not being able to touch him and offer him comfort…it was a unique torture only he could know.

"Jean." Oliver's quiet voice carried from the doorway. "They're here."

'They?' "Show them in." Jean-Luc whispered. "Et ferme la porte."

In walked an old woman, fat and walking with a cane to support her heft. She wore a purple dress with bell shaped sleeves and from the brown sash wrapped around her girth was a variety of rabbit feet and pouches. A necklace of bones hung from her neck and feathers decorated her salt-pepper dreadlocks. Her companion was slim and young, no more than twenty, wearing denim bellbottoms and a pale yellow top. Her sleeked hair framed her heart shaped face and a silver cross adorned her neck and charm bracelet.

"Jean-Luc LeBeau. There weren't no reason to call me. I can promise you there ain't no gree gree on him."

Jean had known Marion Laveau for several years now, having made her acquaintance not long after he took over as Father. He'd gone to her shop for a… second opinion on the prophecy of a demon eyed child saving the Guild. She had not only confirmed the prophecy independently, but she had read Remy's future the night he took the boy as his own. When it came to matters of the supernatural there was no one he trusted more.

"Then why was he in a coma, Marion? Why is he in pain and begging me to make it stop!"

The old woman sighed. "I'll look and see what's hurting the poor boy. See if I can speed up the healing. But I can tell you right now it ain't nothing a little more time woudn'ta cured. Turn the damn lights on, chére. I need see what I'm doing."

The girl flipped the switch on the lamp and Jean-Luc winced at the sudden intrusion of light. Marion immediately headed for the child, who was still sleeping fitfully. She laid out her hands so that they hovered inches above Remy's feverish body and slowly swept them along his small frame.

Jean glanced at the young stranger standing by the light switch. Her dark eyes were unfocused, staring at the area around his son. As if she could see something there that he couldn't. It set him on edge.

"Who's the fille, Marion?"

"My grandbaby, Mariposa Huerta. I'm teaching her the craft. She'll be taking over my business once I'm planted. Now shush, boy. I need some quiet."

Marion slowly moved her hands above Remy's body for several minutes and with each turn Jean could see her face turn more tense. When she finally finished, she collapsed in the chair Jean-Luc had been occupying for the last several days.

"That boy… He is powerful. But you knew that, Jean."

"What's wrong with him, Marion?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Mariposa's timbered voice rang out. Her dark eyes were now focused solely on him, staring into the depths of himself he'd long since hidden away.

"What's obvious?"

"When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you. When you step into the shadow, the shadow steps into you." The words had a cadence to them. As if they were from a poem or an old saying. "T-Remy has lost himself. He cannot tell he ends and others begin. All those unfamiliar emotions bearing down on him. He's much too young to even comprehend the feelings of an adult let alone another child."

"What are you saying? He's feeling what I'm feeling?"

"You, me, the mailman down the road. Whatever was holding his power back before is gone now. He needs to learn to control it by himself."

Jean closed his eyes in pain and ran his hand over his face. Something had been holding Remy's power back? But what? The image of the tiny and vicious Renée filled his head. Had she been…? They were twins. They were connected. Was that why…?"

' _You think he's your brother because you came out of the same whore? You think you're siblings? You're not. You're his cancer. A parasite. Every moment of every day he feels your pain, and the closer you are the more pain he feels. You are a leech sucking the joy right out of his blood.'_

He'd said it to hurt her – to make her leave… But perhaps…

"Hmm. It's a good thing it's gone, Jean." Marion said, still seated in the armchair. "Whatever was holding everything back was a leech. Sucking up everything the boy felt in and around. Ever seen a leech that's drunk too much blood? S'not pretty."

Jean remembered Renée attacking him like a wild animal, and her unnatural obsession with a brother she barely knew or could possibly remember.

"Yeah. Je sais. It's not pretty."

"Here's what I'ma do, Jean. I'll put a small hex on this here room, but that means no one but the boy can c'mon in here. It'll be his safe room. But it's only temporary. He needs to learn control on his own. Should start naturally after a few weeks. Me or Mari will check on his progress ev'ry month. In a year we take that hex down and the boy sinks or swims with the fishies."

Relief filled Jean. And with the loss of tension came a bone weary tiredness he'd been pushing away for…how long had it been?

"His destiny's changed." Spoke the timber voice of Marion's grandfille.

"What?!"

Mariposa's dark eyes were hollow, unseeing yet aware of everything. The sight sent shivers through him as cold as an ice bucket.

"I can taste it on my tongue. His destiny has shifted with the wind. You should read his bones again, Gran."

"I will, chére. But why don't you give your senses a try first? Might lead us down the right direction."

Mariposa nodded and opened her dark eyes even wider.

"Pain. Lust. Vengeance. So much vengeance. It will lead him away from the Guild. It will lead him towards the weapon. Broken bonds…lost souls…family taken away."

Mariposa gave a shuddered gasp and closed her bottomless eyes. She took several shallow breaths before recovering and staring directly into his eyes.

"Jean-Luc LeBeau, your days are numbered and with them your child's youth. Be warned! Upon your death he will be drawn to a shadowed path. Should he return… he will not be the same. Make his ties to the Guild and his family strong and true. Without those bonds he will be lost and the Guild shall fall to ruin.

You are not a good man, Jean-Luc. But you are a good father. Use what time you have to keep your son on the middle path."

~-/-~

"Wake up, wake up." Oom clapped.

Renée muffled a small groan into her blanket before sitting up and rubbing her bleary eyes. Oom held a small candle aloft, but that was the only light Renée could see. The sky outside the window was pitch black, and the small bedroom even darker.

Renée got dressed with the other girls and knelt with them as they said their morning prayers. As soon as she could she made her way close to Fatima.

"Why? Dark?" Despite her limited vocabulary, Renée was picking up Arabic far more quickly than she had expected. She half suspected her new brain excelled in the auditory and language centres. She had picked up Cajun abnormally fast as well.

Fatima wrapped a ragged scarf around Renée's red hair as she answered.

"You…water…long walk…many mosques…", were the only words Renée understood. Usually she could guess what was being said from context but at the moment she could tell for certain was that everyone was preparing for a long walk.

Fatima wrapped her own head in a scarf and Renée observed the other girls doing the same, with Ubaid struggling to wrap Lima who was stubbornly trying to pull away.

"Hurry up, girls." Ooma called. "We are… El Muallaqa…."

The twelve little girls lined up in two straight lines, with Ooma, Acenath, and two more older girls end capping the formation. They walked east for a long time. Over and around acres of garbage lying on the ground like seeded grass. Renée marked just over one mile before Lima started crying about being tired and Fatima clutching her hand tightly in a desperate effort to keep up Ooma's brisk pace.

Ooma gestured for Acenath to carry Lima and ignored the other girls' complaints. The sun was starting to rise by the time they left the city slums and Renée gratefully breathed in air that didn't carry the stink of garbage. Her stomach grumbled in hunger, and once hers sounded the others' growled in response. Clutching their tummies, they continued east, following Ooma as she navigated the desert streets.

An hour into their walk they came across a small well. Ooma gestured for everyone to get a drink and Renée eagerly waited in line for her turn. They sat and drank for fifteen minutes before resuming their journey east.

Soon the buildings became stacked closer and closer together, appearing ancient and weathered. This was Renée's first close look at Cairo outside the slums she'd been placed in and she eagerly took in the sights. The Castle and the other buildings surrounded by garbage were made from crumbling brick but the buildings now surrounding her reminded her strongly of the architecture of hidden sand. Great stone structures pointed at the sky with sleek domes and Arabesque designs. Smooshed in between these Agrabah-like structures were flat rooftops perfect for roof running. Renée itched to use her chakra to run and jump throughout the city, but that was impossible right now. She'd have to make do with unenhanced abilities if she were ever given the chance.

Fatima clutched Renée's hand tighter as the group passed a crowded Mosque.

"Zabbaleen." Renée heard them whisper. "Coptics."

Fear crept into Renée's heart. Were they in danger? Was it a faux pas for a large group of Christian girls to traverse through a Muslim city? Hesitantly, she lowered a small part of her mental shield and prepared herself for a wave of negativity. She waited and waited for the onslaught, before eventually realizing it was never going to come. No one in the crowd felt any hatred or disdain for herself or any of the other girls. Instead, Renée felt curiosity and pity.

Renée squeezed Fatima's hand and smiled at her and Fatima smiled back. Together they walked hand in hand, smiling and occasionally waving to a merchant in the bazaar. The smell of food made her even hungrier, but Renée stayed silent.

The further east they travelled the older and closer together the buildings got. Soon, the Mosques turned into churches and they stopped before a sprawling building that looked as if it were suspended above the ground. A sign named the church in multiple languages. In English, it was called Saint Virgin Mary's.

The inside was packed with people, but even with the crowd Renée could see the beauty of the ancient architecture and sacred icons adorning the walls. The ceiling was high, double barreled, and made of a dark wood. Mahogany? Renée could not tell.

"Renée." Acenath had grabbed her by the shoulder to pull her away from Fatima. She yanked the scarves off of both of their heads and stuffed it inside the small satchel she carried on her shoulder. She brought Renée to an old man dressed in black robes. The priest smiled kindly at them and held out a white tunic. Acenath accepted the clothing and paused to wait for the priest to ruffle Renée's hair and speak kind words she did not yet understand before pulling Renée into a small room at the back of the church.

"Wear this." Renée started to pull the tunic over her head when Acenath stopped her.

"No…off clothes." Renée quickly undressed all the way, even taking off her shoes, then pulled the white robe over her head. Acenath tied a plain white chord around her waist, then lead her back into the main part of the church.

Renée had never been particularly religious, in any lifetime, but she knew enough to know she was about to be inducted into a church. As much as she would like to sit quietly in the back or explore the nooks and crannies of this ancient church, she knew everything would go easier if she just went with the flow.

Acenath brought Renée to the front of the church, and sat her in a pew close to a marble pulpit inlaid with beautiful designs. The older girl motioned for her to stay, then walked toward the back of the church where the rest of the girls in the castle were seated.

A long ceremony commenced which Renée didn't even try to follow. Instead she spent her time admiring the icons and trying to guess the age of the church. It was only when the priest in black robes stood before her with his hand held out did she realize it was time for her induction. He lead her to a large fountain, lifted her up, and placed her in the freezing water. Renée bit her lip to hold in her shivers. The priest made the sign of the cross, then placed his large hand over her head and dumped her into the water, once, twice, three times. The baptism complete, an assistant handed her a brown towel, which Renée gratefully accepted. The assembly clapped and smiled at her as she was lead back to the small room that held her clothes and Renée couldn't help but smile back when she caught Fatima's eye. While the water was unpleasant, the warm welcome from the church more than made up for it.

After they were released from the church Fatima, Ubaid, and several other girls giggled.

"You're face! So, funny….water…surprise!" Renée giggled with them.

"C'mon! ….explore!" The girls, for once not fighting each other, grabbed her hands and pulled her several streets, finally stopping at a large river. Was this the Nile?

It was still early in the morning, and Renée had no wish to get wet again, but she enjoyed watching the girls dare each other to wade into the water. They never went past their calves, the current was far too strong to risk more, but they did splash each other and taught her songs as they waded.

Around midmorning, Renée spotted a black man from the corner of her eye. Tall and dressed in brown flared pants and a white button down shirt. His dark skin made him stand out in this land of sandstone and olive toned skin just as much as her own pale white complexion and red hair did. But it was his camera that truly set him apart from the masses of people she had seen today. It looked like a fairly modern model for the decade she was in. He took several pictures of them playing in the river, which set her on edge.

Was he a pedophile? Was he hired to take pictures of them? Of her? Did Jean-Luc LeBeau send him? Renée's paranoia receded somewhat when a woman carrying a white haired toddler on her hips walked up to the man. A family man? Photographing a happy moment he had happened to come across? Still, Renée did not let herself relax again until the small family left some thirty minutes later.

~-/-~

As the morning turned to noon the girls laid down on nearby sandstone slabs and let the sun's heat dry them. When they were adequately dry Ubaid and the other girls went their own way to explore the city leaving Renée and Fatima alone.

Fatima patted her stomach. "Hungry?"

Renée nodded. "Hungry much."

Fatima smiled secretively, a suspicious twinkle in her eye.

"Come with me!"

The two of them ducked into side streets and cut through several public buildings Renée could not begin to guess the purpose of. Fatima did not seem to have a specific location in mind, instead she searched for hidden signs or clues.

"Where we going?"

"Zifaf!" Fatima replied.

Eventually they came across a street with loud music and dozens of people going in and out of a small house at the end of the block. They made their way inside and that's when it finally clicked.

"Oh, zifaf."

It was a wedding. A large wedding. It looked like everyone from the surrounding streets had come to celebrate. Fatima made her way to the buffet of food and started to eat. No one looked at the two little girls oddly. In fact, they were welcomed with open arms. Renée caught site of the bride and groom, sitting happily together and watching the musicians play, a basket full of coins at their feet. The same man who'd been at the river was here, too, photographing the young couple and their guests.

A new song started and the guests all cheered. The center of the room cleared and four men and four women went to the center, clinking together two small symbols strapped to their fingers. They danced and danced and Renée found herself happily clapping along and laughing aloud at some of the dance moves. One move looked like a lazy camel, another reminded her of Orochimaru's snake kata. The group dance ended and Renée saw the bride and groom stand up to speak to the performers.

Renée glanced to the side. Fatima was engrossed in the music, her eyes closed and a pleased smile on her face. Quietly, Renée walked towards the basket.

This was stupid. She didn't know anything at all about Egyptian currency. For all she knew those coins were worth less than an American penny, however unlikely that was. Renée ran her hand over the bronze coins then picked up a small handful. Hearing shuffling footsteps behind her Renée quickly dropped three small coins back into the basket and stealthily put the rest up her sleeve. Looking up, Renée was surprised to see it wasn't Fatima who interrupted her, but the bridegroom.

"Hello, little girl."

"Hello. Happy…zifaf." Renée said brokenly.

The groom knelt down to Renée's height and patted her head. In an odd way, he reminded her of Kakashi-sensei, though she couldn't put her finger on why.

"Thank you…my zifaf. …..….I am Ayan."

"Renée." She replied, a little suspiciously. Did he see through her sleight of hand? Was she going to get kicked out?

But there was no need to worry. Ayan and his wife Amal talked with her and Fatima for several minutes. And when it was time for them to go and meet up with the rest of The Castle girls for the long walk back, the newlyweds sent them along with several sweets to share which they wrapped in their scarves.

Renée couldn't remember the last time she'd had this much fun. Certainly not in this lifetime. Perhaps she should let down her mental walls more often now that she knew she could make them properly.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Familiar Territory**

 **by** **Tylerbamafan34**

~-/-~

It was a few days after the wedding. The air was as dry and arid as ever, even if the breeze from the moving vehicle did make it slightly more bearable.

The atmosphere as Oom drove the group in a decrepit old vehicle was tense and quiet. Renée was personally bewildered that the old scrap heap was still in working order. It appeared to be an old, decrepit school bus or something along those lines. It was almost impossible to tell with the dust and grime covering the thing.

She had tried to make conversation with a few of the other girls, Fatima included - mostly to figure out what the hell was going on - but they were in a decidedly non-talkative mood. Renée grumbled at being left in the dark.

Soon she grew bored. This was something she hadn't had to deal with as a kunoichi much, the tedium of travel was different when you were running and was oftentimes replaced by tense security shifts and lookout duty interspersed with hunting. No such luck here

Eventually, she found herself drifting off.

Her dreams were disjointed and confusing, nothing coherent, but fragments were recognizable. She dreamed of the war, saw flashes of different battles and felt the pain of old injuries. She felt the searing heat of a jutsu and-

She jerked awake, her hand gripping the wrist on her shoulder.

Anaceth simply stared down at her blankly her dark irises assessing and calculating. "We are here." she said shortly.

It took a few moments for her sleep addled brain to translate. As the girls filed out of the back of the truck, with Fatima being helped down before Renée casually stepped off the truck bed. She frowned at what she saw.

They'd entered some kind of valley with one of the Nile's many tributaries flowing through it. Dummies were set up all around the area, with weapons of different makes lined up on what seemed to be a cafeteria table. Single shot weapons, submachine guns, shotguns and pistols along with an assortment of combat knives. There were a couple of men and a younger boy handling the cleaning and maintenance of the weapons.

Oh.

Oh.

It was a grim realization, and one that had her re-examining every single interaction she'd had with the girls since she'd arrived in Egypt as they filed into two rows of six.

The older of the two men began talking rapidly, so rapidly that Renée was hard pressed to translate it all. As it was, she managed to catch words like 'practice, large, pair off'

Renée lingered for a moment as Oom placed a hand on her shoulder and called out "Ubaid"

The ten-year-old started forward annoyance evident in her eyes and her expression. "Ma'am?" she asked tightly.

Oom gestured to the table "Show her. When she chooses, return to me." Ubaid nodded

She pulled Renée over to the guns and Renée balked slightly; she didn't know the first thing about guns. Ignoring Ubaid's impatience, Renée eyed the table warily, slowly walking down it and lightly running her hand lightly over the different models.

She was a realist. She wasn't going to be able to lift many of these weapons let alone fire them for quite a few years. Still, she eventually chose a grey pistol with a dark wooden hand grip, and a combat knife.

The elder of the two men snatched the gun out of her hands and eyed it critically before nodding and flicking the safety off before firing off a few rounds at a nearby target. He nodded, satisfied, as Renée rubbed her ears to dull the ringing. The old man nodded slightly and handed her back the weapon. Slightly bewildered, she wandered back over to Oom and held up her choice.

Oom eyed her critically, before taking the gun and placing it gently on the truck bed "Knives first. You must learn to fight. To riposte and to parry. Practice with Ubaid."

Renée nodded and moved so that she and Ubaid were about five feet from each other.

"Remember Ubaid, she is learning."

Ubaid rolled her eyes but nodded reluctantly.

"Begin."

Renée watched as Ubaid lunged, and dodged the thrust with grace, instincts once carefully refined finally kicking in. Ubaid's attack seemed almost slow to Renée as she easily batted the knife aside and lashed out with an overarching swing of her own. Ubaid pulled back, her knife coming up in time to block the blow even as she twisted around to punch at Renée's nose. Renée reacted purely on instinct and grabbed her opponent's wrist, and kicked out behind her knee to bring her down to Renée's own level. She twisted the wrist she was holding and forced her to drop the knife. By the time her brain caught up with her actions, she had the dagger at Ubaid's throat, the older girl on her knees and her arm in a painful twist.

She pulled back slowly and glanced up at Oom and the other adults, who were all giving her a long and considering look. "Well done."

Oom came forward and gently separated them. Renée sheepishly handed Ubaid her dagger who snatched it out of her hands while blushing furiously.

Oom gestured for Renée to follow and picked up the gun. "Shoot the targets. Accuracy, not speed for now." She murmured.

It was much easier to understand Arabic now that she was more alert and not focusing on the past, but that didn't help the issue of what she was supposed to do with the gun now. She remembered watching the men in New Orleans, not quite daring to swipe a gun for herself, but wanting to know how to use them just in case. She frowned and took the gun, trying to position herself like they had and aimed for one of the circular targets pinned above them on the underside of a cliff face. She squeezed the trigger-

-and damn near dropped the gun from the recoil of the thing. "Fuck!" she yelped, slipping back into English.

Oom and the two men chuckled slightly "Recoil is something else no?" the younger of the men asked easily "Here."

He gently pried the pistol out of her grip and unfolded the stock to a shiny, silvery weapon. "Should handle easier. Here hold it like this."

He helped her manoeuvre so that the stock of the weapon pressed against her shoulder and she squeezed the trigger again. This time there was a hail of bullets and a lot less recoil. She peered up at her results but frowned as she saw them scattered around the outer rings of the target.

'One more thing to work on.' She thought in annoyance.

~-/-~

Renée craned her neck back in shock as a smoke pillar rose ominously up from the skyline of Cairo, starkly visible in the setting sun. "What happened?" she asked Fatima hesitantly. Her voice was barely heard above the racket Oom's truck was making.

"No way to know." Fatima answered lowly. "Word will …come."

Renée nodded – the movement was short and curt as she became aware of the fact that something was very very wrong. It took her a moment to recognize what though as they approached the Castle… She squinted slightly as Oom opened the door and stepped out with her shotgun clenched tightly in her hands, her expression thunderous.

Renée watched as Oom barked something at them in rapid Arabic the wrong feeling swiftly changing into alarm as from her low vantage point she got a good look at the door. It was ajar.

The kids slowly filed into the building, Oom swearing lowly - from her tone it could not be anything else - with her shotgun at the ready.

Renée's eyes sharpened as the kids began to chatter about what could have happened. She allowed her gaze to drift from room to room, absorbing the details. Or the lack thereof. Hm, nothing was disturbed in the other rooms. It indicated that the intruder knew what to look for… what they were after.

Oom shouted something else; Renée ignored her. Her instincts and senses were on high alert, as she drifted slightly away from the other kids and allowed her body to loosen just in case someone was still here.

The intruder hadn't been very careful either, Renée noted as they came to the back door. It was dangling by one hinge. Cautious enough to use a lock pick at the front door, but once they had what they wanted they were anxious to get the hell out.

It was true, the back door of the Castle was in shambles. Splinters and jagged edges of wood were exposed. Small scraps of cloth fluttered from where they were attached to the remains of the door, and her eyes caught the dried blood on the floor. Dried, but only recently – it was still red. They would've broken in shortly after we had left. The midday sun could have something to do with the speed it had dried however.

The intruders had taken Oom's briefcase. According to Fatima it had contained the money she needed to put food on the table. She used other words for them, thieving mongrels were the nicest, but the point was the same.

From the look of things, he had rammed the back door down, then likely climbed the back wall as well. Determined … but sloppy. Renée narrowed her eyes. Right.

' _I've got an amateur to catch.'_

In the slowly growing chaos, it was easy for her to slip away, and out into the neighbourhood.

~-/-~

It took hours.

Renée scouted the neighbourhood, asked questions - even though they mostly consisted of two or three words - and was eventually pointed towards a small home. She skulked around, sticking to the comforting shadows. It was well past midnight when she was satisfied the building was empty.

She easily slipped in and out, the case just left in the middle of the bedroom – no traps, no nothing. It was all too easy.

As she slipped back out into the street, she let a smirk creep onto her face. 'Job done.' she thought victoriously.

~-/-~

She politely knocked on the front door, and Oom appeared with shotgun in hand. She held up the briefcase triumphantly.

"Found it!" she chirped in Arabic.

The look on the matron's face was priceless. The shotgun clattered to the ground and she was swiftly pulled into a bone crushing hug. "Never scare me like that again," the woman scolded in her ear. She pulled away, and smiled warmly "but well done."

Soon she was surrounded by the clamoring of the other girls.

"How ... find it?"

"Who took the money?!"

"How … ... back!?"

The chaos made it difficult for her to translate the cacophony of words but she got the gist of it. She was the heroine of the hour.

Fatima merely gave her a warm smile, which Renée returned. _'Yes.'_ Renée thought. _'I might not be entirely sure about this place, Oom's connections, or what the purpose of the Castle truly is, but I can make the most of it. No more holding back.'_


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Storming the Castle**

 **By Dinner**

There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens

And lets the future in.

~Graham Greene

~-/-~

Renée finally managed to find some actual alone time. She'd woken up at least one hour before anyone else had. It was a shame she didn't have the time to sneak out of The Castle, or she could've gone to one of the ruined homes she had seen yesterday while walking with Fatima. She'd have true privacy there.

For now, this had to do. Her back turned to the other girls as she lay in her bed. No one would look at her like this if they were awake; she was just another one of them.

The sun was slowly rising and there was the tiniest ray of light, hitting the wall she was lying next to. It was the perfect opportunity to start stretching certain muscles.

Not her physical ones. Discovering that the Castle was actually a lot like the ninja academy had eased the thoughts of falling behind her in her personal training schedule, now she needed to stretch her chakra. She'd been exhausted in that sense for a while, but today she felt different. She could feel her chakra almost restored again.

Maybe it was the fact that she had been enjoying her time with Fatima. Maybe she needed to not be so stressed for her to access her chakra?

If that was so, no wonder she hadn't been able to get a good grip on it so far.

Or maybe it was the connection she had with her brother? Ever since their separation, she couldn't feel that faint whisper of him in her mind. And things had been easier, like a fog on her mind had lifted… Maybe that connection had been causing her trouble? Would her chakra be easier to use now?

But how to test it?

That was something to investigate another time.

Renée raised her finger so she blocked half of the light on the wall, creating her own shadow. Then, from her stomach she collected all the chakra she could comfortably manage and slowly, with an iron grip on the tumultuous flow, forced it up, and then down her arm, into her hand and slowly let it connect.

There was a connection between it and her, she could feel it move as she moved her finger, feel the sandy texture of the wall as her shadow crawled over it.

She concentrated, the feeling of chakra a lot less foreign to her than when she first tried to reach for it. She was getting to know the whims of it. It wasn't the same as back home, it wasn't a part of her in the same way. The realization dawned on her slowly; of course it felt different, it was a different shadow, but she still felt that connection. That tingling feeling inside of her. The rush of power was so close, if only she could-

"Gotcha!" she whispered as her shadow moved the other way then her finger did. Now she just had to- and the connection snapped. The shadow lost its autonomy, once more a slave to the laws of physics.

"Welcome back old friend." She whispered to her shadow.

Small beads of perspiration trickled down her forehead, sticking her hair and to her skin. Despite it not being physical, the concentration and strain on her body was very demanding. She'd known that from back when she had tried to fill a stone with enough chakra to track it.

But it was a major victory. She had succeeded in moving her shadow, meaning that… she was not as broken, as different, as she might've thought.

She tried to do it again.

Her finger raised. Wiggling it. Feeling the connection with the shadow. With her chakra. Telling it to let go of the laws of nature. To trust her command. To go the other way.

She succeeded.

She let her finger curl with the rest of her hand into a fist as she, ever so silently, shook her fist in joy. "Yes!"

And as silent as she was, she could not miss the sound from two stories down – as loud as it was.

It was like someone was trying to open the door with a battering ram.

All the girls shot upright, or straight jumped out of bed and rushed down. Renée was the first one though, because this sounded like all kinds of wrong and she wanted to know what was happening.

As they all ran down the stairs, Oom was already at the door. She was livid, screaming so loud it actually hurt Renee's ears.

She stood halfway into the hall, rifle in hand, opposing at least eight police officers. Her hair down and frizzled like a lion's mane. The door was shattered, and Renée was sure they had actually used a battering ram to get through.

Renée just stood there watching, unsure of what to do while Oom stood there threateningly.

So did the other girls, some walked past her, others stayed on the stairs, just behind her. Ubaid was held back by Neneth and small though she was, Menefer needed Jazhara's help to keep her in place. She stopped her struggle to run to the cops when Acenath grabbed her shoulders and simply told her to calm down.

Renée blinked at that, that was… unexpected.

It was Acenath who actually stepped up to the woman though, ignoring the police as if they weren't even there. After whispering something in Oom's ear she got a silent nod from the Castle's matron. Somehow without uttering a word, within ten seconds, all the girls, including Renée followed her outside through the backdoor.

They walked for at least half an hour, none of the girls complaining, as if they knew there was simply no time for that. Even Lima kept up with the pace set by Acenath, and Fatima limped just one step behind.

"What you think, happen?" Renée asked, falling in line with Fatima.

"Police break… Castle not safe …have to go to The Fort." Fatima's breathing was uneven, having to keep up with the murderous pace of Acenath, and Renée was unsure of some of the words but one thing was clear.

The Castle had been invaded. And it wasn't safe for any of them.

"What about Oom?"

The woman had been a living wall, and after seeing what they had done to the door… Who knew what they would do to Oom? Then again, it was the police, they wouldn't kill or seriously harm her - there were laws against that.

This time Acenath stopped and turned around. "No talking, keep up."

There was something about Acenath that made Renée listen to her, in the same way that you couldn't help as a genin to listen and follow the command of a chuunin.

~-/-~

It must have been another ten minutes before they reached this "Fort" Fatima had mentioned. It didn't look like one though, it was just a tall sandstone building, and not unlike The Castle was.

Acenath banged on the door, six times, when a man opened. There was talking, for Renée could hear the murmurs but she was unsure of what was actually being said. But soon enough the girls were let in.

And suddenly all the girls started to talk. Renée quickly found her way to Fatima, the one girl that would talk slow enough or take into consideration that she wouldn't quite understand what was being said.

"Where we are?" The sentence came out wrong, she knew that, but Fatima would understand.

And slowly, over the loud chattering sound of all the rest, Fatima explained what she knew of the situation.

Apparently the police in Cairo weren't your friendly neighbours like they were in New Orleans…

"This is the Fort", the girl explained lowly, "it's where the boys stay. We come here when something goes wrong in the Castle. Have not been here since a sewage issue last year."

"Why did police come?" Renée asked, carefully mouthing the syllables.

It didn't make sense... Although... Jean had sent her to someone his second had contacts with... Perhaps the Castle was more nefarious than it seemed?

Fatima shook her head "Not... sure." she murmured "Nothing to find at home."

It was Ubaid who explained it moments later. "Police came in... because we're Zabbaleen! Just like they stormed the Fort last year and took my brother!" The girl spit out the words and promised the next time she'd see a cop she'd shoot him.

"Zabbaleen?" Renée repeated. She'd heard that term before...

The answer never came as the man who had opened the door started hushing everyone. "Word has been sent to The Village. Help is on their way and The Castle should be safe to go back to tonight."

His words were slow, his voice low, and it seemed to make the girls all at ease.

Not Renée though.

Because it sounded an awful lot like they were going to kill the police.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: Rising Tide**

 **by tylerbamafan34**

~-/-~

"Their deaths would serve no purpose," this was said from behind steepled fingers, as round glasses reflected candlelight. "We should not needlessly kill if it can be avoided."

"Sir." his scout protested "We must answer this, it is an unprovoked attack on our children!"

"I never said we would not," came the smooth answer. "But we must do this carefully."

There was a long, considering silence. "Intimidate them, target their families, show them that they are not safe from retribution."

"Yes sir!"

"Just ensure no one is killed." There was a brief pause. "Yet."

~-/-~

Renee growled as she and Acenath moved the mattress back onto the lower bunk. "The nerve," Renee grunted shortly. "What the hell did they think they would find?"

"Hard to tell," the teenager replied sourly, "they look for any reason to mess with us."

Short of Fatima, Acenath was actually the most accepting of how advanced she was for a five-year-old. She had silently accepted her offer to help clean up after the police raid that morning.

Renee grunted as the teenager took most of the weight off of her frail size and panted slightly. "Damn," she wheezed in English.

Renee couldn't help but feel slightly put out at how easily Acenath was moving the thing. She blinked, and wanted to smack herself for not thinking of it sooner. Grinning slightly, she flushed her muscles with chakra and relished the warmth as it circulated through her body. It wasn't much, nowhere near as much as what she could once achieve, but it would suffice.

Renee picked up the bottom end of the third mattress, and slipped it up onto the bed. She couldn't help but snicker when she saw Acenath blink at her in surprise.

~-/-~

The sun had long been in the sky by the time Renee found a chance to slip away and train. The damage had been intense as the police thugs searched and ransacked the Castle, and it had taken some time to finish cleaning up the debris. The heavier damage would be repaired in the coming days, but for now the small things were mostly back in place. All the girls could do for the rest, was wait.

She swung, and a pipe hit a section of a wooden beam with a resounding thud. She grabbed it and wrenched it from the beam it'd fallen from. She swept and rolled into another combo. She switched from one end of the pipe to another, spinning as the rusted out pipe flipped and she caught it in her off hand.

She'd found this little place down the street from the Castle two days ago on the way home from the wedding. It was a run-down little shack that had clearly not had anyone live in it for quite a while given the state it was in. With the rotten wooden beams and half collapsed ceiling, she had quickly set up her own training room.

With her attempting to reconnect to her shadow it was best to have somewhere private to practice.

Still, it seemed she had a long way to go before she was able to connect with her shadow fully again. She theorized it had something to do with the physics of her old world versus that of this Earth.

She tossed the old pipe into a corner and clambered onto an old crate watching her shadow as she attempted to connect with it again.

' _Come on... come on…'_

She gathered her chakra and forcibly pressed it down, from her stomach into her legs, through her feet and into the shadow, the connection should form as soon as the chakra entered it...

Eventually there was a strange sensation that swept through her body and she shivered. She gave a grin as she felt the tenuous connection to her shadow form and tentatively pushed a little more, reminding it that it didn't have to hold her shape.

There was a ripple that seemed to shift the shadow before it wobbled into an amorphous flat blob, that curled and wreathed in its own shape. The feeling of success swept through her, breaking her concentration and with it her grip on the flow of her chakra.

And without the steady flow of chakra, so carefully supplied by her, the connection broke and she was left dazed and tired, with black spots filling her vision. Panting, she lay back on the counter, waiting for the world to settle. By the time the black spots in her vision had faded and she could sense the world around her again, half an hour had passed

She laughed slightly. "Finally. We're getting somewhere." She glanced at the position of the sun. "Well crap," she rolled off of the crate and reluctantly forced herself to her feet. With a slight stagger in her step, she made her way the short distance down the street and towards the Castle.

~-/-~

After a quick sprint Renée found her way back home. The dead end street looked the same as ever, outside it showed no signs of the things that happened the day before.

Lima and Menefer were playing ball, throwing the thing against the wall and letting the other catch it. Lima, with her usual enthusiasm waved when she saw Renée and as she did, the ball was caught by her face.

Renée would've laughed but she was distracted just a second earlier, missing the accident as her eyes tried to find the owner of a very low, gruff voice unusually close.

There. In the doorway without a door stood Oom talking to someone inside the hall. There was a bruise on her cheek. Apparently the police had been far rougher than Renée had expected, but then again, Oom had faced them with a rifle aimed at them, and whatever struggle had taken place, none had died.

And just like that Renée realized she would miss Oom if that happened…

With a slow, wary stride she made it so she could see past Oom. Renée listened intently to the conversation. Which wasn't easy, Oom was talking fast and the man, while a slow talker, had a thick accent, one that rivalled even hers.

He was tall; easily a head taller than Oom, with sharp, angular features, with dark eyes and even darker hair.

"This is Sokolov," Oom explained slowly to her once she was noticed "Mr Farouk sent him and a few other men to the neighbourhood. To ensure no more trouble and keep an eye on things." The way she said it, was if it was a great honour.

Renée eyed the...Russian? Croatian? Eastern European…? with wary scrutiny. Oom squeezed her shoulder.

And it actually made her feel safe. That was unexpected too.

Sokolov seemed to be measuring her, if his calculating and analytic gaze was any indication. "Da," he grunted, as Lima chased after her ball, bumping into him and saying sorry. "You'll have no more intruders with us around." he said shortly. And even in that short exchange his accent was thick, and apparent.

Renee, somehow, rather doubted that.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

 **By MisteriosaSaky**

 **~-/-~**

'Sokolov somehow reminds me of Shino. Physically they're nothing alike, except maybe the color of his hair and maybe the shape of his nose… But the way he looks around, the way he kept his back straight, how people tend to either avoid him or forget he exists at all…'

Renee had kept a keen eye on the man, him and all the other guards. At first she was wary. They all had weapons and moved with confidence, but slowly she had relaxed into something that could be considered respect. Kids and adults looked at them with admiration, and the men were serious but at the same time friendly and not afraid to indulge the children in their curiosity or games. One of the guards kept playing with the kids. He was scolded several times for it but he kept doing it anyway much to the locals' amusement.

'This group is not so bad after all. Although they are civilians, they were treated as if they were shinobi – maybe this dimension's version of respected chunin, like Iruka, Izumo and Kotetsu, or special jonin like Aoba or Hayate. This...this is not a bad place'

"Renée, Renée!" Fatima called, giggling to herself, "You need to see this! Come on! The others are already there!"

"What now?" She asked with a half-smile, following Fatima.

"Tarek is talking funny! He said he read about it in some American magazine, but I'm sure he is doing it wrong!"

"A...merican?" She asked, thinking about Remy and Ginger, 'I wonder how they are? I hope they are doing ok, that they are happy...'

"Some say yah cool,

some say yah sweet,

some say yah never should go prancing in the street."

'Is that?' Renee thought, trying to find the source of the words. The voice was deeper, there was a lilt in some of the words, and although that voice was definitely not B... the way he was trying to rap was definitely B like. A small part of her absently wondered how long it had been since she had thought of her old home. The rest of her was near speechless in horrified wonder.

'I can't believe someone is even worse than B!'

"See! He is talking funny!" Fatima gestured with a giggle.

Renee watched in horror as the man danced his way over to one of the laughing locals, a mother of a little boy carrying some sort of meat dish.

"Imma level 9 monster,

with a hunger for toast,

watch me rappin for a piece of this roast."

'No, just no.' Renee thought and turned around, walking home to The Castle without a single glance backwards, 'There is no way I am going to suffer another B, another Rap freak! A worse one even! Just. No!'

"I take it you don't like Tarek's new hobby. I thought it was becoming common in your country?" Sokolov's voice - speaking in English - startled her. It was the first time she'd heard her (current) native language in weeks. She hesitated, her mind blank for a second as she blinked once, twice.

'Wha-? Stupid Shino like tendencies!' She thought, considering how best to respond. It wasn't like she could hide that she was from America. 'Did Oom ask him to check on me or something? Why else would he make a point of talking to me now?'

"It's not the rap that I dislike, so much as how he does it." She finally said, trying to look both at him and at the spectacle in front of her. It was harder than it sounded, but watching Tarek was a bit like watching a train wreck - you just couldn't look away.

"It would bother me to see something done so well by my countrymen made into a mockery too." He said, looking down at her with a half-smile, "It's surprising though, that you are able to write and speak as well as you do. Oom tells me you didn't know a word of Arabic when you came here, but that you understand most things now. She thinks you are slowing down though; that you could do better somewhere else."

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked, looking at the man cautiously. She couldn't sense any deception from him with her senses… just interest and a slight feeling of protectiveness.

"I noticed you are keeping a close watch on my men. I figured it would be better if I talked with you directly... I'm not going to force your hand," he said looking at the locals with a soft smile on his lips. "I think you'll do great with us, we can help you and you can help protect the people here."

"I'm just a little girl, you do realize that?" Renee commented, turning back to Tarek.

"Well, maybe not right away, but sometimes little hands can do what big hands can't." His eyes were distant, trapped in some far off memory before focusing on her again. "You are mature enough for your age. Think about it, but when we leave in two weeks, I'll need your answer."

He sauntered off, leaving Renee to stare after him just as Fatima noticed she had lagged behind. Her friend's eyes went wide as she caught Sokolov leaving and hurried over.

"Renée!" Fatima whispered as soon as she was close enough, "What's wrong? Did you get told off?"

Renee couldn't help but softly smile. Fatima was always worrying about her, trying to protect and help her in her own special way.

"I'm fine, he wasn't telling me off for anything."

"Then why was Mister Sokolov talking with you? He never talks with anyone!"

Renée shifted awkwardly. Fatima wasn't whispering anymore and the other girls were turning to look at them.

"He… He wanted me to go with them when they leave."

"You were recruited!? That's not fair!" Ubaid exclaimed, "I've been trying to get recruited for years! Why would you get recruited before me?!"

"Can I get recruited too?" Lima asked, looking at Renee with a hopeful stare, "Can you make them recruit me too? Please?"

"She can't," Acenath spoke, her words again somehow stopping the girls' arguments, she focused on Renee, "You're special right?"

Renée didn't know how to respond to that, but the look on her face must have been answer enough.

Acenath nodded once, sharply before turning to the other girls. "That was why she was recruited. Now leave her alone for a bit, if she wants or needs your help she'll come to you."

Renee wasn't sure who Acenath had been talking to, if it had been her or the other girls crowding around, but she nodded in agreement and turned to head back to the Castle anyway. Fatima followed her nervously.

"It's not fair..." Neneth grumbled under her breath, low enough to not be heard by the rest, but loud enough for Renee to catch it as she passed, all the while sending jealous glances her way.

Renée tried to ignore her. Just how big a deal was this anyway?


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: Al Mi'raj**

By Dinner and DreamOfStories (ideas from TheFalse)

~-/-~

The group of girls broke up after Acenath had said her piece, most of them scattering along the street, but a few held back to stare after Renée. Ubaid and Menefer in particular seemed very interested. Their stares bore into her back, like a physical weight, but Renée didn't rise to it. She did the grown up thing, and walked away with her head held high.

'Nothing to see here, move it along.'

The brief quip cheered her up, even if only a little, knocking her out of her hesitance and letting her catch up with what was happening around her. Behind her she could hear Fatima hurrying to keep up; the rhythmic thump thump pause, thump thump pause, was fairly distinctive. She slowed down to let her friend join her, biting her lip as she went back over the conversation. When Fatima had caught up, she had managed to get some order to her thoughts.

"Hey Fatima."

"Hey Renée…"

Renée smiled, well this was awkward. She had questions that needed answers, but… She wasn't exactly sure how to ask them. What was she supposed to say? I'm sorry they think I'm special - can you tell me if I should go with them and leave you behind?

"Renée… Are you going to go with them?"

"I…" The pause was forced, she needed time. And there was only so little. "I don't even know who 'they' are or where they want me to go. How am I supposed to decide now?"

"But, it is such an honour! Any one of us would... We would take the offer in a heartbeat!" Fatima stopped Renée from walking further. "Renée… don't you know who pays for all this? Why we are able to be safe and trained and fed?"

'Oh,' thought Renée, 'This is going to be one of those conversations… One about something that was obvious to everyone else only I somehow missed it...'

Fatima read the answer from her expression and sighed. "Of course… Oom would have told you the first night, but you wouldn't have understood then..." She frowned a little. "How- No, I guess I can get you to tell me later." She looked around before nodding firmly to herself. "Right."

"Fatima?"

Fatima grabbed her by the hand and dragged her to a small plastic bench. It was an awkward looking thing, made from old plastic bottles. Renee eyed it dubiously, but sat down when Fatima tugged on her hand impatiently. When they were both settled, she fixed Fatima with her best 'now explain' look.

"Ok.. So… Uhmm…" Fatima started. "How about.. you just ask and I tell?"

Renée mulled it over in her head. There were many questions she wanted answers to… But most of it, Fatima wasn't likely to know. The main ones, how was she supposed to ask them?

'Is this another plot to get me killed?' No, she couldn't ask that…

'Is this some weird sort of ROOT program?' Nope, didn't work either…

So she settled on the ever so useful and not whiny at all: "Why me?"

Fatima gave her a flat look. "You've been here barely more than a month and you still need to ask that? You're smart Renée! You speak nearly as well as I do… You know maths Ubaid struggles with… And you must have had some form of training before… You're… You're so amazing."

"So they want smart people?"

Fatima smiled, her eyes suddenly turning down towards the floor. "Only smart people? No, they want the best. People that can make a difference. Change how things are. People with gifts."

Renee wasn't sure how to answer that. Did they mean her empathy? Her chakra? Were they just interested in her because she was gifted - a so called prodigy? She frowned slightly and twisted one of the bottle lids off her chair. True, she had shown her intelligence, and her skills in both unarmed and armed combat… but what did that mean to them?

"I don't get why this makes me special?"

"We are born Zabbaleen, we get taught early on, we're no better than the dirt we live in. We are taught not to try, not to push. To settle with what we have. This… this is all we're good for." Fatima looked up again, straight into Renée's eyes, and the emotions hit her, hard. "But you, you don't, you didn't come from here. You don't look down, you don't give up. You keep doing your best."

"You think far better of me than I deserve." Renee mumbled. "I do it because if I don't.. " She swallowed the words, and took a quick breath. "If I hadn't done what I did, I… I wouldn't have been me. I mean… I know I'm strong and smart, I do. But I can't trust in the kindness of someone I don't know, not anymore. But I can trust in you. You'll help me understand won't you?"

Fatima swallowed, her eyes wide. "Me? But..." She glanced around, as if someone would jump out and declare that it was all a particularly funny joke. "You trust me?"

"Of course. You're my best friend here." Renée grinned. "You were going to tell me who pays for everything? Who the offer was from? Are they the same person?"

Fatima folded her hands neatly on her lap. "So, many years ago a young boy, handsome and heroic, came to Cairo and lived in the rich part. He liked it there, he had everything his heart desired. Then, when one winter came he met a girl, a Zabbaleen girl." Fatima paused, as if for dramatic effect. "They fell in love, he didn't care she was poor, she didn't care he wasn't-"

"Are you telling me a love story?"

"Yes! But a tragic one! Now hush and listen!" She coughed lightly, and fixed her posture before beginning again. "His name was Amahl, hers was Fatima."

"Really?" Renée asked.

"Well no one is really sure. So, her name is Fatima. By the time summer came he had proposed to her, and she had said yes. It was going to be a grand wedding, the first of its kind, both Zabaleen and City folk would attend."

"But something went wrong?" Renée interjected.

Fatima gave her an exasperated look, "Do you want to know or not?"

"Sorry."

"But there was one problem, the boy had friends who disapproved of her. They thought he deserved someone better - someone like the Mayor's daughter. So the day before the wedding, when he went out on his last night as a bachelor one of the boys did something so horrible, no one has spoken of it since. All anyone knows was come next morning, the bride-to-be was gone."

Fatima looked at Renée as if there was a clue she was missing. Renee just blinked back at her. She could think of hundreds of things that could have happened to the young woman, but she was enjoying Fatima's story telling skills too much.

"Hey, don't look at me, I was supposed to be silent."

"You're no fun… At Least guess."

"She was taken hostage?"

"No."

"Killed?"

"Worse." Fatima said ominously. "Exactly seven days after that the wedding was canceled, the boy was sent a package, a large box with red rose petals strewn over the top of it."

"What was in the box?"

"His bride's head."

Renee couldn't help but laugh. Fatima said it with such seriousness, like it was a pronouncement of doom. But… it was so typical of a horror story! "Thats gross!"

"Well, it was what happened… Anyways! The boy, angry, confused and overcome with sadness made his way to the police station where he was stopped halfway there by a young woman, dressed in his bride's favourite dress. She invited him into her house, and told him that some lines are not to be crossed, that it was important that the lower classes remembered their place, and how she was better in every way than a mere Zabbaleen girl from the rubbish piles."

"This story is getting long… can we just skip to the end?"

Fatima sighed. "We're almost there." She coughed twice, as if clearing her throat. "She was the Mayor's daughter you see, and even when the boy had proof of the unspeakable things she had done, the Mayor and the police spun it around, saying it was the boy who had done it instead. For six days and six nights the Zabbaleen protested his treatment, and then on the seventh day, the boy was allowed to leave. When the Zabbaleen saw him; he was bruised and battered, but he spoke not of hatred, nor of revenge. He spoke only of forgiveness, and reuniting both of Cairo's people. To this day he fights for us, not by killing, but by showing by example that all people are equals under the eyes of God."

Renee waited a beat before tilting her head slightly. "This boy… he's the one who funds the Castle?"

"Amahl Farouk. He uses his parent's money to support all those that need it. A lot of people would be suffering without his help."

"But if he preaches not to fight, why do we have weapon training?"

"He doesn't teach us not to fight. He teaches us how to protect ourselves and our families. If everyone is equal, then we should be allowed weapons just like the police."

"It sounds like a cause worth fighting for."

Fatima's eyes widened. "Fight? Well..." She hesitated. "Only when we really have to. We wouldn't fight if they didn't start it first."

"So, this Amahl… He's the good guy? Then, who's the bad guy?"

"Mr Farouk's the best! His men, Al-Mi'raj, help to keep us safe from the Police and the other people in the rich parts that think they can do what they like to us just because we are Zabbaleen."

Renee nodded. It sounded like a good story… A fairytale with heroes and villains… But, she had heard such stories before. There were always two sides to them, and they were never quite true. Fatima's story… If it was only half true, then perhaps joining them would be ok? In the Castle she had a lot of freedom… but with people who specifically wanted her to improve? People who cared about others, about standing up for what was right?

'I wouldn't mind helping people like that.'

"So, they asked me to join this Al Mi'raj?"

Fatima laughed. "No! You're way too young for that.. I think they meant the Village, or maybe even the Tower, you know? Oh, you might get to see Amahl Farouk in person if they want you at the Tower - they say only the best recruits get to see inside. Though maybe Sokolov meant to ask you to come to the Shrine, really it could be any of those…"

Renée blinked. Those names were all a little strange… but then they did call their home the Castle. Best to keep low expectations. "What are all those places?"

"They're safe places. Like the Castle is... or was… Except the Village. The Village is an actual village. Acenath went there once, you could ask her."

Renée nodded thoughtfully. "I might. I should ask Sokolov where I would go to."

"I'm happy for you." Fatima said standing up. "You know, you're going places."

Renee frowned slightly, there was something slightly off about Fatima's tone. She lowered her shield's and almost flinched back at the dual feelings of misery and jealousy coming from her friend. The misery was worse, it reminded her of the night she lost Remy, after the anger had faded.

"Fatima..."

"You should go talk to them now. They'll help you. I bet they can answer all your-" She seemed to choke on her words a little, and Renee caught a glimpse of tears before she spun around, away from her.

"Fatima!"

Renee watched feeling helpless as Fatima ignored her and limped off. It seemed like Fatima had already decided for her. But she could very well make her own decisions, if going was the best thing for her… then she would probably go. But she wasn't going to leave things with her friend on that note. She would talk to Acenath, and see what she could learn. Then she would find Fatima.

~-/-~

Renée had always been socially awkward, she knew this. Those early years in the academy learning how to talk to people her own age again had been painful, and she still found herself floundering in unfamiliar situations sometimes. But gathering information? That she could do. And when she did, her 'social awkwardness' was incredibly helpful. That, and her newly regained baby looks.

For closed up Acenath, always on guard even when surrounded by friends, she needed to look vulnerable. So, she closed her eyes, thought about those last moments before she was torn away again and let her eyes well with tears. Not enough for her to be actually crying, but enough to leave them slightly watery. Then she widened her eyes as best she could and walked up to the elder girl.

"Acenath? Can… Can you tell me what it's like in the Village?" And Renée lowered the shields buffering her mind from her empathy as much as she dared.

And was promptly bombarded by the feelings of everyone around her. 'Ok, not the best idea.' She forced her shields back up, the action easier, if slightly lower than she had expected, and blinked until the relative calmness of her own mind came back. By then all girls had surrounded them. Cautiously this time, she lowered her shields a tiny bit. It was still loud, but she could pick up individuals if she concentrated.

"Oh, so you're going to the Village?" That was Menefers' nasal voice.

"Why isn't she going to the Keep?"

And Ubaids' sharp tones added "Oh Acenath, tell us!"

"Why ask Acenath?" Lima shouted. "I've been there too!"

"No you haven't." someone far back said.

Renée thought she heard Fatima too, but almost dozen girls were all talking at once and it was hard to make out any individuals.

"Yes I have Killi." Lima countered, probably pouting and with crossed arms.

"I can't believe she gets to go while we stay in 'the Castle'!"

"There is no r-" But then something, or better said someone became the centre of everyone's attention.

"The Village?" Acenath asked, and all other girl quietened down. Even Renée felt like she needed to concentrate on Acenath's words - which was an odd thought… Only, it couldn't have been important. Acenath was speaking again. "There's no place like it anywhere else."

And Renée could feel what Acenath meant. A mix of emotions, all warm and tender. She felt safe, so incredibly safe. Then the emotion faded and Renee was left feeling rather lonely.

"Could you describe it?" Renée forced out, it was like she had to fight her instincts, seriously what was so bad about interrupting Acenath?

"The village is hidden in a place outside of Cairo, not too far, but far enough that no one has to worry about any nosey visitors. All but one of the buildings are white..." She paused, eyes sliding to the left; as she remembered something and Renee swallowed at the respectful hush. "The streets are narrow and build into bedrock, high enough that when the Nile floods, they remain untouched..."

Renee pinched herself and double checked her shield's as Acenath's smile turned wistful. "The Lion's Mane. That's what Oom called it" Acenath seemed distracted. "It's one of a number of outcroppings that stick out of the desert sand, barely visible from anywhere rich folk might go. In its shadow we're safe from prying eyes, and you can feel that. It's so oppressive here in the city, that when you go where it's safe…" She shook herself out of the daze, and turned to Renee with a gentle smile. "It's a wonderful place. If you can go there, you should. Actually, Oom will go there next Thursday, I always go along, maybe you could join us?"

Renée smiled nervously. If the feedback she got from Acenath was only an echo of her feelings seeing the place then… It was a good thing her shields were perfect now. "I'd like that."

That sparked another outcry from the girls.

"Don't make a scene, someone is watching us." Acenath cut in sharply. Her voice dropped to a whisper. If possible, it made her words even more compelling.

Renée could have kicked herself in the shins, how had she not noticed that? They weren't exactly being discrete. But Acenath was correct, just twenty yards away four policemen stood strangely still.

"We need to move, just act like we always do, and after you cut the corner, make a run for it. Head back to the Castle. I'll find Sokolov. They'll sort this out."

Renée couldn't help but think of Fatima. Looking around, she didn't see her… Where was she?

As the group went around the corner, the girls started to run, Lima, having the shortest legs was not outdone by any of them.

But Renée didn't run after them, she couldn't help but think of Fatima's watery eyes as she tried to hide her tears, and her hurried pace as she left Renee behind. She was out there somewhere, alone, distracted because of her. Renee couldn't leave her behind, if this was as dangerous as Acenath thought it was. They were friends. Friends did not abandon each other without even trying to do something.

She glanced towards where the police were. They didn't seem too interested in the group of girls that had just upped and gone away, they did however follow Acenath. "Why follow her and not the big group? Do they know something I don't?"

Renée bit her lip. If she followed them, she might learn the answer to some of her questions. She still had a few. Acenath's emotions had been genuine and so pure, and Fatima's story was… well it was a nice fairytale. But real life didn't work that way…

Or she could look for Fatima. And hope that she found her before the police did.

The choice was made before she had even formed the thought. When it came to prioritizing, family always came first. Friends came a close second. Answers weren't on that list.

Ok… Fatima had been crying when she had last seen her. She had been upset and trying to run. Basic psychology said that when you're running you go to places that feel safe - familiar. Fatima had lived here almost all her life; she would know where was safe and where she was unlikely to be disturbed. There was only one place that Renee could think of that met all those criteria...

Renée headed off at a dead run. The shed wasn't that far from the main entrance to the district. It was set back and away, but there was a chance that someone might have heard something…

What followed was a lot of running and keeping her eyes alert, if anything in uniform was nearby, she'd have to take a different route.

Renée skidded around the corner and almost fell into the shed. Fatima was there, just as she had expected, and Renee hugged her tightly. Fatima stiffened in shock, but cautiously hugged her back.

"Uh, is something wrong? Why are you sweating?"

Renée grimaced, moving her hand up over Fatima's mouth. The other girl's eyes widened in surprise. "The Police are up to something. Hush."

They waited with baited breath, first as shouts rang out, Sokolov's familiar accent among them, and then there was the sound of gun shots. Fatima trembled slightly, and Renee shifted her grip back to that of a bear hug.

When the gunfire eventually stopped, Renée let Fatima go and sat back nervously.

"Fatima… I..."

Fatima shook her head sharply. "It's fine." She paused. "I… Renee? We need to talk."


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21: Blind faith**

By Dinner

~-/-~

Blind faith in your leaders, or in anything, will get you killed.

~Bruce Springsteen

~-/-~

Renée grabbed Fatima's hand, and squeezed it. "You're right, we do." There was another gunshot, quickly followed by another. "But are you sure this is the right moment?"

Fatima nodded, and seemed to gather all her courage. "I think it is. I… I want you to know its ok if you go, but you should know I'd-" she choked up.

Renée didn't need need to lower her shields to know what choked her up. They had become close and Fatima didn't have many friends in the Castle. "I'm not gone yet. I haven't decided."

Taking a deep breath Fatima took control of herself again. "But you will. You have to, chances like these, Renée they don't come often. You should take it."

"Everyone sees it as such an honour, a great thing. But I… I am not so sure." Renée pressed herself closer to Fatima. "I haven't told you about me, not really. But I don't have the best track record with grownups, they always fall short."

There was another gunshot, followed by a high pitched scream.

And Fatima giggled first before she and Renée started laughing.

Uncontrollably.

Renée wasn't sure why the situation was so hilarious, and that only added to her laughter.

Fatima, through her bouts of laughter tried to say something, but all that came out were the tears streaming down her face.

"Ok.. ok.." Renée managed to bring out. "Let's calm down."

Renée got up, her pants were covered in dust from sitting on the ground. So she dusted herself off, their laughter had been loud enough for people to hear, and she could hear footsteps coming eerily close. She motioned for Fatima to hide behind the table, the fallen piece of furniture was probably the best thing to shield yourself from someone's sight in the shack. The stacks of ruble weren't high or wide enough.

Renée quickly made her way to the corner, where she remembered the lead pipe lay. She picked it up, Fatima had made her way over to the table, making motions for her to join, but hiding wasn't what Renée had taught herself to do. Not if hiding only meant getting caught.

So Renée did what she did best. She used the element of surprise.

The footsteps got louder, as whoever knew they were there got closer. And as Renée tracked a male shadow coming closer and closer, the lead pipe got raised, higher and higher. The shadow clearly showed the guy had a gun in hand, she'd have to deal with that first.

Considering the length of the shadow, she could guess his height, even with the pipe in her hand, she wouldn't reach his face, but then again, she didn't have to. She recognized this shadow.

"It's ok Fatima, come." Renée jumped out of the shack, over the broken wall, the lead pipe falling where she stood earlier. "Hi Sokolov."

"Good, you're alright, is the other girl here too?" His accent was as thick as ever, but concern still seeped through, even if his face seemed stoic. He looked a bit disheveled.

With a mighty lurch Fatima got out of the shack as well. She looked between Renée and Sokolov. "We heard gunshots."

"Ah, yes, we fired some."

"Did anyone get hit?" Renée asked.

Sokolov made a noncommittal shrug. "Police try cause problem, we solve the problem."

"But why would the police start problems?"

"Why?" he repeated, turning around. "Walk with me to the Castle, I'll explain." Sokolov started walking, Fatima and Renée hastily caught up with him, Fatima's limp not slowing her down.

"As Fatima knows, the Mayor of Cairo... he is a bad man. And the police, they are his." Sokolov smiled grimly. "Last week, there was a plane crash, in centre of Cairo, some people say it was done by the Al Mi'raj."

"Was it?"

"Of course not!" Fatima exclaimed. "Right? Mister Farouk would never-"

Sokolov raised his hand, four men and one woman, all armed with rifles, nodded and followed suit. "It was not. Our leader was having a meeting at that moment, with the mayor. Which was very nearby the plane crash. He went to the home before any politician, there was a child there and he took her in. Amahl Farouk doesn't stand for such destruction."

"He took her in?" Renée asked curious.

Fatima frowned. "But he didn't send her here?"

"No, he sent her to the Shrine." He glanced around as they turned a corner into a more deserted area. "Oom did not have space for another little girl. She will stay there for a few years until Acenath moves out. She is very small."

"But why do they think the Al Mi'raj did it?"

Sokolov snorted. "They don't. Not really. But it is a good excuse, and one the Foreigners will turn a blind eye to while they investigate. They will not say otherwise for a year or more. It is a slow process, I hear."

"And meanwhile, they can get away with sending more police into the slums!" Renée felt her stomach turn. "This is wrong."

"Wrong? Yes." Sokolov turned the corner. "But effective. Rich people get to blame someone, and Mayor finally has support of government to enact his vendetta."

"But we're safe right? Because you're here to protect us?" Fatima asked. And Renée once more realized, she was just a child.

"You are." Sokolov petted his rifle. "Even the police have to respect these."

Renée wasn't so sure about that though, fear and respect were two entirely different things. But from his perspective, she could understand his reasoning. "Do you really believe that? That they respect the people with guns more?"

"Like I said, you're mature for your age." He said with a laugh. The Castle was in sight now. "Maybe not, but it is the closest thing to it we'll get from them."

~-/-~

Dinner was a welcome and warm event. It was nice and normal compared to the hectic afternoon they'd had. After coming home to the Castle Oom explained the situation to everyone. There were a lot of questions. And Oom managed to answer each and every one of them.

And now they were expressly forbidden to leave the Castle unless they were under the protection of one of the grown ups. The police, as Oom explained, were looking for reasons to get any and all access to Amahl Farouk's' followers. Apparently even the orphanages weren't off-limit.

Renée didn't mind. Privacy was important, but keeping everybody safe was even more so. Besides, there were still places and times she could practice on her own.

She'd just have to plan it properly.

And now was not the time. Today was her day to help with cooking, and cooking for thirteen people was no small task. Thankfully she wasn't the only one. Oom was stirring a big pan filled to the brim with a broth. Killi, a nine year old girl with the body of a seven year old boy with hair to match, and Renée were folding dumplings filled with chicken.

It was a task that numbed the mind, just a simple process to repeat over and over and over again. Killi was a quiet girl, mostly. And Renée was not in the mood for conversation either. But Oom, ever the teacher, was prodding them with questions.

"How many have you made Killi?"

The girl counted the dumplings on her plate. "Fourteen."

"And Renée, how many?"

"Seventeen." she answered after counting them.

"Then Killi, who made more?"

Killi took but a second to answer. "Renée, Oom."

"And what is the difference?"

"Three, Oom."

"Good. You're getting better Killi." Oom put the spoon with which she had stirred the broth to her mouth, tasting it. "Almost done, now Renée, explain to me, in full sentences what we are making and how."

Arabic was coming easier and easier with each coming day. Her accent was still horrible, and she was sure she messed up more often than she realized, but speaking in full sentences, she'd practiced that enough. "We are cooking Broth and Chicken dumplings. You made the Broth from three jars of chicken broth and water. We are making dumplings from chicken meat and dough?"

"Good enough. When the both of you have twenty four dumplings you can round up the rest of the girls."

Both Killi and Renée nodded. "Yes, Oom."

They made quick work of those dumplings, and when they were done called for Oom so they could gather the other girls while she made the final preparations.

"So, quickest way to gather everyone?" Renée asked.

Killi smiled mischievously "Ringing the bell!"

The bell, mostly used for the start of lessons was a large cowbell in Ooms office. They technically weren't banned from using it, but it was an unwritten rule that only Oom was allowed to ring it. Then again, they weren't told not to do it.

So instead of going up and down the stairs and outside to fetch everyone they made their way to the desk that was Oom's office.

"I can't believe we're gonna do this." Killi said as they reached the desk. The bell was in the first drawer laying on a stack of folders, a sock inside so it wouldn't make noise. Renée pulled the sock out of it and gave the bell to Killi.

"You want to?"

"Yes." They both giggled.

Renée put the sock back in the drawer, and then she noticed something odd. She hadn't seen it before, because the bell had obstructed her view. but there it was, in arabic letters, a folder bearing the name "Renée".

Killi waved the bell around, the sound it made was impressive. No wonder they could hear the thing all the way down the street. It was loud. Kill seemed to have a great time letting it chime, she gave the bell to Renée; and honestly, she couldn't resist not using it too.

So she rung it, twice. Meanwhile keeping one eye on the folder. It was yellow, with a white rectangle on it. Her name was written on the two blue lines in that white square. If Killi hadn't been there with her, she would've peeked in it, her curiosity like a nudge in the back. It didn't look particularly thick, but then again, she hadn't been here for very long either, if it had been a month, she'd be surprised.

"We need to go upstairs and prepare the dining room."

"Sure." Renée put the sock back in the bell to silence it. And she was so tempted to stay behind and read that folder… She closed the drawer after putting the bell back in it. She'd read it later, perhaps it could answer some of her questions.

They made their way to the dining room and arranged the cushions and such for the arrival of everyone. Meanwhile the girls all slowly trickled in.

"Hey Menefer." Renée said as the first girls sat down on the cushion she just fluffed up "Would you mind helping fluffing the cushions?"

"Ask someone else. I've already helped Ubaid with the beds."

"Oh... " Renée turned to Neneth who just walked in. "Mind helping with these?"

Neneth raised her shoulders. "Sure. Which ones?"

Killi answered, holding up Oom Oumaima's cushion. "If you could do this one, it's too big for either Renée or I to do alone." That might've been an exaggeration, but it was a big one.

Neneth took the cushion out of Killi's hands and started fluff it up. Before Oom walked in with the broth, dumplings and a loaf of bread all the girls were seated. Fatima had cuddled up next to her and Killi had placed herself between Lima and Jahzara. As always Acenath sat next to Oom.

Dinner was usually a quiet affair. It started with a prayer, said by Oom, but after that it was silent until Oom said it was ok to talk again.

The prayer was long, and the words sounded like they were older than the ones they used in their normal life.

But Oom, as always said it before anyone could take a bite.

"Blessed art Thou, O Lord who supported us from our youth and granted unto us Thy blessings, and prepared food for every creature; for the eyes of all await Thee, Thou who gave them their food in due season."

Renée wasn't sure she believed in any one god. She knew of Death, the Shinigami. And she very much had proof for reincarnation. But did that mean God was real too? She had been a God once, however fleeting that moment had been, she had experienced being so much more than just human.

"Thou open Thine hands and fill all living things. To Thee is due glory, praise, blessing and thanksgiving for the food that Thou hast prepared for us. Stretch forth Thy right hand and bless this food set before us for the nourishment of our bodies. Let it be for power and health of our lives."

Maybe there was a God. And just like her when she was in the grasp of the Gelel chakra mere humans seemed so beneath it. Why would God interact with anything that is so fleeting? Besides, if there was a God, a true creator, why would it create such a flawed universe?

"Grant salvation, grace, blessing and purity to all those who partake thereof. Lift our minds to Thee at all times to seek our spiritual and eternal food. Grant that we may labour for the everlasting food which is for life eternal. Grant us to be partakers of Thy evening banquet."

Then again, how many people did horrible things in the name of God? Entire cities have been razed to the ground simply for not bowing their head to something they didn't believe in. What kind of God would allow such monstrosities? Of course, the popular belief was free will, but those who believe in God also speak of fate and destiny, how much free will does one actually have when their destiny is already a pre-made ordeal?

"Grant us the food of blessing, the cup of salvation, and fill our hearts with joy. Grant us a peaceful life, joy of the soul and health of the body."

Renée wasn't sure of many things, but she was sure if ever she got to meet God, if it was a real being, she would ask him.

"Teach us to seek Thy pleasure in all things so that when eating, drinking or labouring, we do it all for the glory of Thy Holy Name. For Thine is the glory for ever and ever. Amen."

"Amen." The girls all repeated.

And Renée tucked in after being passed a bowl of broth and some bread. The dumplings tasted great, and both she and Fatima eagerly filled their tummies.

It was after dinner that Renée and Fatima went outside. and walked up to the first guard they saw.

"Hello, ma'am." Renée started, looking questioningly at Fatima for help.

The woman turned around. "Ma'am would mind walking with us to our secret play base?"

The guard nodded. "Sure, but call me Melek, Ma'am is what I call my stepmother."

Fatima beamed a smile. "Sure thing, Melek."

"Now, where is this secret play base?"

Renée pointed her finger. "There. It's just a ten minute walk, but Oom said we had to ask for a guard if we wanted to go."

"Ah yes. Good for you, to follow the rules. Especially in the evening. These places haven't been the same since last week."

They started to walk. "Yeah, Sokolov told us." Renée agreed.

"It's a shame really. Peace talks were going so well, but we should've known the Mayor was just searching for a reason to send his police in. That foul man doesn't have a decent bone in his body. If it wasn't for Mr. Farouk, i'm sure these parts of town would've been a true garbage heap by now." Melek said, her tone was pointed, as if it was a personal thing.

"Huh? How so?"

"Well, it was maybe six years ago, the Mayor was pushing to clean out these slumps and use it as wasteyard."

Renée thought about it, the slumps already were filled with trash, it was one of the ways the Zabbaleen made money. Searching through the heaps of trash for recyclable materials that some factory would pay money for. "But what about the people living here?"

"They don't see us as humans over there, we're just like the trash we live with to them." Melek shook her head. "It wasn't always like this, there used to be less of a divide. But ever since the Mayor took office… the line between Downtown Cairo and Mokkatam couldn't be clearer. If it wasn't for Amahl Farouk's influence, this place.. it would be gone. Or worse, become part of the Necropolis."

"The Necropolis?" That didn't sound foreboding. Not at all. "What is that?"

Fatima shivered. "It's the City of the dead, My parents were from there."

"If you go down the hills, there." Melek said, standing still and looking east. "You will find the city of the dead, it's where we bury those who passed on, the people who live there, they're the poorest of us Zabaleens. They live between the dead, it is a place… It's not good."

"Yeah, we're not going there." Fatima said resolutely. It wasn't something she did often, usually she was more soft spoken.

Renée nodded seriously. "Ok, we don't have to go there."

"Good, cause we're not allowed there." Melek returned to her former pace. "The people in charge of that part, not even the Al-Mi'raj are allowed in."

It was something she should investigate further, so far there were three powers at play in this city, you had the Mayor with his police. Someone everyone she talked too said was pretty much an awful human being, then you had Amahl Farouk with his Al-mi'raj and now a third power, settled in the Necropolis.

Whatever kind of power play was happening, it seemed awfully complicated.

It didn't take long before they reached the shack. They both climbed inside, and Melek stood guard out on the street.

"Are you sure you don't want to come in?" Fatima asked.

"Can't see anyone coming from there, I'll stay here, don't worry - I'm used to it."

Renée and Fatima spend their time in the shack, not lazing around. Renée used the ruble to do acrobatics, while Fatima climbed the walls. The shack actually had several floors, but the stairs had been demolished, and Fatima, while not having the best legs, could climb like the best.

"You know." Fatima started. "When you go, maybe we could still meet here every once in awhile? Without anyone knowing?"

Renée jumped over the fallen table, one hand planted on its side; this would normally be the moment that she would use her touch blast. She couldn't do that just yet, chakra did not come fast enough yet. But in her head she imagined she planted one and actually tugged at her chakra.

"Yeah." Renée said. "If I go, I'd like that."

There wasn't a tension between them about it anymore, they had talked enough about it. But it did irk Renée that Fatima was so set on her leaving. She still didn't quite know why they wanted her there… Why her and not Acenath? Or Ubaid? Or even Neneth?

Maybe the answer to those questions was in the file Oom had on her.

They spend the rest of their evening playing tag, Fatima not nearly as easily caught as one would suspect from someone with a limp. Though in all honesty, Renée did make it harder on herself, she only allowed herself to tag Fatima if she had gathered her chakra and could hold it in place while going after the bigger girl.

It was a training for her in both body and chakra.

It was probably why she was dead tired on her feet by the time Melek put her head through the hole in the wall. "It's getting dark, we should go back."

~-/-~

It was back in the Castle that Oom told them it was time to head to bed. So Fatima and Renée brushed their teeth and went to the bedroom.

As hot as the days were in Cairo, so cold were the nights. Even now, in the midst of summer, as soon as night fell, the temperature did too.

So Renée tightly wrapped the sheets around her as she stepped into bed. The sheets were thin, but warm, besides, small as she was she could wrap herself in it a few times over. She closed her eyes, and sleep came quickly.

But as quickly as it came, it also passed.

By now her body was used to waking up earlier than everyone else. As soon as the first ray of sun hit the wall next to her, she awoke. It was like her personal alarm clock.

The last few days she usually spend time connecting to her shadow… but this morning she had other plans on her mind, if she was quiet enough she could probably read the folder on her unnoticed.

So she got out of bed, the sheets she had wrapped so tightly around herself falling to the ground. The other girls were sleeping, and some of them even snoring. She stretched her limbs and wiggled her toes. And made her way down the stairs. Oom's office was next to her bedroom, so all the way down and through the living room.

And there it stood, Oom Oumaima's desk. In all it's wooden glory.

Renée saw the drawer with the files, Oom had put a lock on it…

But locks were easy for a former ninja, unless they were very good locks, or very good drawers. And ever since the connection between her and her brother had broken it was so much easier to remember her past. Like her brains went from Windows 3.1 to a windows XP, losing that connection had upped everything when it came to remembering. Not to even mention thinking or her emotional state.

Remy was probably better off too. Jean-luc had been right all along…

From the desk she took a paperclip and bended it so it was straight. For this kind of hang lock, that would be all she'd need. She stuck both ends of the paper clip inside the lock and wiggled it, putting pressure on the mechanism inside, and within seconds it was open.

She put the lock on the desk and opened the drawer.

The cowbell was still in it, on top of all the folders. She picked it up, her hand keeping the sock safely inside of it so it wouldn't make any noise.

With the cowbell now safely next to the lock on the desk she got the file and opened it. The light was dim, but enough to read the black on white words.

The first page was simple enough. It showed the day and time Renée was brought in and her age plus physical traits.

The words were scribbled not in Arabic, which surprised Renée, but in latin letters, she hadn't seen the words written like this. But it seemed easy enough, it looked almost phonetically spelled.

There were about seven pages filled with notes. Renée skimmed over them.

There was a part about her first day here, or rather her first night.

"The girl showcases signs of neglect, we've fed her and let her drink to her heart's content, but she looks like she is ready to fall over any moment. She fell asleep on her bed while I was explaining the rules of this new home. I can only imagine the-" The rest seemed to be ideas on what had happened to her.

She didn't care for that, she knew the truth and Oom seemed eerily close in her guesses.

"The girl tried to jump out of the window, I wasn't told she was suicidal, I'm keeping her closer to me from now on, if it wasn't for Acenath…"

Oh… Yeah, she could see how her first nights' escape could've looked like that. But seriously, she was not suicidal at all. She just wanted to escape and go back, besides, she wouldn't have 'jumped' out of the window. If Acenath hadn't stopped her she would've climbed down.

"She's been here for two days, the dark rings under her eyes are still there, but after the scare with her seizure I've heard her laugh for the first time. The other girls aren't sure what to do with her, though Fatima seems to have taken a liking to her…"

It seemed Oumaima had kept a better eye on her than she'd previously expected.

"Today, during class, I've tested her mathematical skills. She far outperforms what I can provide. Even though she's only five years old she's functioning on a level even above me. I have requested more information from the council on her background, but Mouhammed Bouali is as tight lipped about her as he was when she first arrived…"

Mouhammed? Wasn't that the guy with her in the car? On her first day here… She hadn't been entirely focussed on his name, but maybe… Maybe he had more answers? Maybe he was the connection Jean-luc had between New Orleans and Cairo.

Renée continued to read, there was a large part on her and how she was slowly fitting in and learning the language. It was insightful, but she already knew this. And that was when she found the interesting part.

"Today Renée went on our first training trip. And as much as she excels at learning Arabic and Mathematics, she's even better at combat. I haven't seen such finesse or genius, ever.

Abdul explained that if she could perform like that regularly she might be accepted in the Village… It would be a great opportunity for her, I had thought of asking Sokolov earlier, but this cemented it… The things I cannot provide, they surely can. This girl…"

So that's why… She was given this proposition because Oom wanted better for her. Not because they needed her there, but because she would thrive there. She had been sceptical of the offer at first, it seemed suspicious. Why offer a girl that just arrived in the country such an opportunity if there was nothing to gain from it?

Perhaps there was still kindness.

Still people to put her trust in.

Maybe she could trust Oom Oumaima. The things in these folders, they match what she had experienced herself while in the Castle. And Oom had done nothing to stand in her way, quite the opposite, she had been given space and chances.

But then again, just because the intentions were good, didn't mean that going to the Village was the best course for her. She had started to like the Castle, it was cozy and despite the many people living in it she could still have moments to herself if she needed it.

And the girls were nice enough, they didn't ask many questions and treated her like a normal person. And Fatima was here, how could she just up and leave her behind? Fatima had grown so much from just being around her. The first day she had stood out as the girl with a limp. Like that was what defined her.

But now, when Fatima walked through the Castle, there was so much more to her. She'd grown confident. And while it would be arrogant to think she'd been the one to make her so, she couldn't help but think her being there had helped the girl.

Renée put the folder back in the desk, placed the cowbell with the sock in it carefully in the same position as she'd found it and locked the drawer. There was still time before the others would wake, and she'd gotten more out of this than she could've hoped for.

She hadn't decided yet, her list of pro's and cons was not finished yet. And until the Village seemed like a better option, she'd rather stay in the Castle.

For now she'd go back to bed, and do chakra exercises. No matter the choice she'd make; that was something important, to regain her strength.

~-/-~

When the others woke up it seemed like just another normal day. Everyone went out of their beds and slowly showered and brushed their teeth then came back to cloth themselves.

As Renée went to the shower she was accompanied by Acenath.

"After training, Stay with me and we'll ask Oumaima if you can come along to the Village Thursday."

Renée blinked twice, sure she'd stay. For Acenath to go out of her way to help her, that was nice of her.

"Thank you."

"Thank me if she says yes."

Renée grinned. "Sure."

It was a good hour later before everyone had eaten their breakfast and was fully dressed, ready to go. Renée had found some green cargo pants with camouflage spots on it in her size. Usually she couldn't find anything that truly fit her well in the closet all the younger girls shared.

It looked almost new, it was just a bit large around her waist, so she grabbed one of the belts. Fatima grabbed a yellow tank top and pushed it into her hands. "You should wear this! And then that jacket."

Renée was about to object, she wasn't a doll someone else could dress. But the tank top looked nice enough. And the jacket matched her pants, like they were a set.

It was Lima who had grabbed a green cap and placed it firmly on her head. "You look cool!"

"Thanks." Renée said, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail.

"Not cute though, I look cuter than you, but you look cool." Lima grabbed one of the frilly dresses. That was kind of like her signature look, slump-princess.

"I think she looks great." Fatima said, beaming a smile so bright Renée had to blink.

Traveling with the bus went by quickly, probably because everyone seemed to be in such a good mood. Ubaid actually started singing, and Renée joined in after hearing the song twice. In the rearview mirror she could see Oom smiling at them. Yeah, this was nice.

The training ground looked the same as it did last time, like a barren wasteland. And they were greeted and instructed by the same guys as always. Renée got paired of with Neneth when it came to hand to hand combat.

And just like when she played tag with Fatima, Renée only allowed herself to strike Neneth when she had control over her chakra. It was a handicap for sure, and Neneth had asked her to take it seriously. So after the second round was passed she stopped holding back and got Neneth on the ground in a simple three part lock.

Neneth quickly gave up when her arm was stretched out and she was lying on the ground with Renée's left leg on her throat.

"I didn't meant that." the older girl said when Renée untangled herself. "You're like some freaky Judo Master or something, what do they teach little girls in America?"

Renée smiled sheepishly. "I grew up in a tough neighbourhood?" Yes, that about covered it.

After hand to hand combat was done Renée was given another gun than the last two times.

"This is a .45 M1911 pistol, it's a bit heavy but it's smaller, it should fit you better." Oom oumaima handed the gun over. "You'll notice it has a smaller range, but its aim is true and the recoil is not nearly as bad as with that rifle, give it a go."

Renée walked over to the shooting range. The gun was still too big for her hands, but it was a whole lot better than what she had been given before. She could actually lift this pistol without much effort.

Aiming and shooting the thing went well, or so she thought. She hadn't hit the bullseye but she hadn't missed the target. Just two rings off.

It was a far cry from what she used to be capable off. Besides, the pistol was so impersonal, she prefered kunai or shuriken… But sadly there were none here.

The other girls were practicing too, though Lima, being the youngest among them had to refill the bullets. Renée thought it was kind of weird though, they only differed one calendar year.

But then again… Lima did not look the part of a child soldier, while Renée had been one before she was even born, perhaps they'd seen that in her?

By the time everyone was called to clean their guns and pick up their stuff Acenath dragged Renée to see Oom.

Oom was busy though, talking to the trainer about Menefers' mastery over the shotgun. He was gushing about her, and Oom proudly took all the compliments on.

When they were done, and parted ways Acenath spoke. "Oom, there is something Renée wants to ask."

Oom Oumaima raised her sharp eyebrows. "Oh? And she needed your help?"

Acenath nodded. "I don't think she would've asked otherwise."

"And what is it you want to ask, Renée?"

Thank you Acenath, no pressure now, nope, none at all. "Uhmm… Well… I was wondering if next Thursday, I mean if it wouldn't be a bother, If perhaps maybe I could, if it was possible, come to the Village with you and Acenath? To see what it is like there."

"I see no reason why not." Oom answered matter of factly. She gave both girls a curt nod and beckoned them to follow her to the bus.

The ride home felt longer, most of the girls were tired, with Lima actually asleep on her shoulder. No songs were sung, and Renée was mostly quiet as she rested her head against the window, watching the trees go by on their way back.


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: Turning Point**

By DreamOfStories

~-/-~

Renée swung her legs as she waited on top of one of the taller buildings. It gave her a good view of the street, letting her keep an eye on both the various guards that were wandering around and the other girls. It wasn't her favourite place – too visible and Fatima couldn't join her – but it was a nice place to sit and think when Fatima was tired of wandering around and she didn't have chores. She'd found it the day after Oom had promised to take her to see the Village.

"What you thinking about?"

Renée bit her lip in an effort not to make a noise. He'd managed to climb up to the top without her hearing a thing… She had been slipping too far back into old habits. Here and now she didn't have her chakra sense, not like she did before, and she couldn't act like she did. Although she did have her empathy…

"Renée?"

"Right now, how sneaky you can be."

Sokolov chuckled. "I have had many years to practice."

There was the high pitched crunch of something plastic being squashed underfoot and then a few tiny pebbles dropped down to land on a pile of the tattered remains of soft toys and pillows. They didn't make a sound beyond the initial crunch as they were knocked loose. It was still enough to let her track his movements now she was concentrating though.

When he settled on the edge of the roof next to her, Renée let her legs fall still. Tomorrow was Thursday. Had he come to tell her she couldn't go after all?

"Soft landing if you jumped from here." She twisted around slightly, so she could see his eyes examining the pile. "Not that you can tell that from the street." He let his voice trail off as he leaned backwards, turning his face up towards the sun.

Oh. She should have considered that given Oom's file, but it honestly hadn't crossed her mind. At least, not beyond the fact that it was a potential escape route if someone thought they'd managed to corner her up here.

After a minute, he continued, this time turning serious brown eyes on her. "It was Oom that pointed it out to me actually."

"Did I worry her?"

He hummed quietly for a second. "Do you remember your first night here? Before you fell ill? You tried to jump out a window."

"I didn't – I was going to climb down! I thought…" She trailed off. She could tell him of her plans to find a policeman, or an embassy… but given how the police had been behaving… It might not have turned out for the best.

He waited a little bit longer, before giving her a wry grin. "That you could find your way back to America all on your lonesome?"

She bit her lip. "I'm not going to try and go back again."

His face turned solemn. "It took some effort to find out your past, but I couldn't sponsor you into the Village without it – especially with how your arrival went." He shrugged, "Bouali wasn't inclined to share, but we had a little chat and he told me what he knew about how you came to be here. My own friends found out a little more once I knew which to ask."

He went silent. His gaze on the horizon. Renée fought the urge to squirm. Now that he'd brought it up, she wanted to know what was happening back in New Orleans. Remy was doing better without her – she was certain of it – but what had the fall out been? What did people know? Jean-Luc was the Father of Thieves, and as she'd seen he had enemies. He clearly cared for Remy a lot - and the assassins seemed to know about her connection to them...

"What did they find out?"

He shrugged. "Not much. You have a rather similar look to a certain young boy named Remy. That the Father of Thieves has an interest in you. That he wanted you gone, but not dead. That the assassins are keeping an ear out for news on where you went." He shrugged. "It was easy enough to put the pieces together though. I had a younger brother once too."

Renée swallowed. "Jean-Luc… He..."

She couldn't say it. Sokolov had virtually all the pieces already, and she still couldn't explain it to him. It was one thing to think it in her own head, but to say it out loud? If she said it, if she put the words out there into the world… They'd be real.

"What did he do, Renée?"

"He said I was hurting him. By being close. I… I thought he was lying."

"Do you still think that?" 'Do you still want to go back to America, to your brother?'

Renée shook her head, her arms wrapping around her waist. She didn't say anything, and Sokolov didn't either. He just sat there, a warm presence by her side as the sun began to set and the night cooled. Renée didn't cry. She didn't shudder. She just sat there, a still silent figure, Jean-Luc's words ringing in her head as long shadows crept into the street.

~-/-~

Oom was ready downstairs with a single bread roll wrapped in a handkerchief as Acenath shooed her downstairs. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and hadn't quite managed to reach the street yet as she was bundled out, down the street and into a waiting car. She struggled to keep her eyes open as Oom helped her in, taking note of the other people and squinting at the driver. Was it Sokolov? She hadn't slept well last night - her dreams troubled by a Remy that hated her - and she was feeling it now. Acenath didn't say anything as Renée yawned and leaned against her, nor did Oom. Instead, they let Renée doze a bit longer as the old car rattled its way down the street.

When she did feel a bit more awake, they had made it to the edge of the city. Renée blinked and scrunched her nose as the sun hit her face. One of the members of Al - Mi'raj chuckled quietly and she hurried to sit up and pay attention. They were inviting her along because they thought she was smart and mature for her age. Sleeping on the way here, when they hadn't started that early...

"It is good you're awake now, Renée. We will need to walk soon."

"Walk?" She glanced out the window at the near featureless desert, the only sign that it wasn't a plain sea of sand being the few rock formations peeking out of the sand dunes. There were no trees or houses or anything that could indicate a village.

"Yes, it isn't far."

Sokolov, and yes it was him driving, laughed. "Perhaps another twenty minutes." He called back, "Not far given how much you young ones run around all day, hm?"

Renée shook her head, feeling a lot better after her doze, and scrambled out onto the warm sand eagerly. The sun hadn't been up long enough to turn it burning yet, so for now where the sand swamped her flip flops it was nice and cool.

"Which direction do we go?"

Oom patted her fondly on the shoulder. "We follow the sun. It's the reason it's best to come at this time. Those who live constantly in the village have their own signs they can read, but for us visitors… This is easiest."

Renée nodded seriously. Glancing at the sun to check its position, and then around to try and find some sort of landmark to get her bearings from. There wasn't any. From where they were standing, all she could see was gentle waves of sand.

"What sort of signs?"

Oom wasn't paying attention now, focusing on making her way across the sands, each step shifting under foot. Acenath grinned at her before following, the others in their group trailing along behind. Renee hurried to keep up, hesitating before deciding to remove her flimsy shoes. Oom and Acenath and the soldiers might be doing ok in their shoes with actual laces, but her shoes were getting stuck in the sand far too frequently For her tastes.

It was easier to just take them off and slide along at her own pace.

~-/-~

The first sign that they were getting close to the village was when the soldier who was leading seemed to slump slightly. Renée caught the motion out of the corner of her eye as she turned to say something to Acenath. Acenath clearly noticed it too, because she smiled, a soft eager smile that was a little out of character and surged forwards, a hand going to Renee's back to propel her along too. Renee ran with her, if only to stop herself being knocked face forward into the sand.

"We're at the borders! Can't you tell?"

The excitement in her voice was infectious, and Renée found herself grinning along. Then, she felt it. Somehow, there was an invisible line in the sand. On one side, it was like a subtle dark cloud had been hovering over her - barely more than an overcast day in the grand scheme of things - but it wore at you. Stepping over that line, it was like stepping into sunlight, like a stiff breeze has washed over her and chased away the clouds leaving clear skies.

Renée took a deep breath.

If what the others felt was even half as potent as what she did right this moment, she could understand why they didn't want to leave. She could imagine, now that she was aware of it, stepping back into that grey world and feeling the constant... dullness return.

"I told you." Acenath commented lightly, still smiling. Her eyes were twinkling as she watched Renee. "There's nothing quite like it."

"Yeah. It's pretty amazing." Renee replied and glanced around, "but um… where is it exactly?"

Acenath opened her mouth to reply, but they were interrupted by a booming laugh. Sokolov had caught them up, and his hands landed heavily on their shoulders - well Acenath's shoulder. Renée's shoulder was a little too far down, so he placed his hand on her head instead.

"It isn't far from here." He winked, "Stay close, it's easy to walk right past it if you aren't paying attention."

Renée nodded firmly. She half wondered if he meant that the Village was like Hidden Waterfall - the sort of place designed to be a true hidden village. Or perhaps the buildings would be like Suna's? Big blocky things of white stone protected by the walls of a crater. It would make sense. They were beyond the reach of the Nile now. Which did raise the question of where they got their water from...

She blinked.

At some point while she had been lost in her thoughts, Oom and the others had disappeared on her. Turning to see if she could find their trail, she cursed herself silently as she found that the trail had vanished. Had they noticed yet? Were they going to send someone back to get her? Given her poor start this morning that would just be embarrassing.

There was only one thing for it.

Taking a breath, she lowered her shields completely and deliberately reached out in all directions. She found Oom and Acenath easily enough, along with the three other soldiers in their group. But she also sensed something – no, someone else. Lots of someone elses. She wandered back towards where Oom and the others were (not that far, she was only a few paces off by the feel of things) with her attention on her empathy.

Somehow, here in the desert proper, what felt like a few hundred people were surviving and, from the feel of things, almost perfectly content.

~-/-~

Renée was starting to understand why the Village was so hard to find. Not only was it in the literal middle of nowhere, it seemed to be underground too.

They had entered their current passage through what had at first looked like a shallow crack in one of the rocky outcroppings that were everywhere. Inside though, the passage quickly widened to reveal roughly carved steps leading downwards. The steps were a dull yellow white, a type of sandstone at a guess and wound around in an unpredictable twisting path. There was no additional lighting, the only light they had from a crack in the ceiling partly covered in places by random roots or wedged in pebbles. It got fainter the further they went, as the stone walls stretched higher and higher around them.

Then they turned a corner, and Renee Renée as she got her first look at the village.

They were in a giant cavern, one that had multiple fractures in the roof. The cracks were huge; giant triangular wedges and notches hacked into the ceiling. Renée couldn't help but wonder how many of those were natural and how many had been expanded. The rough nature of their shapes didn't immediately make it obvious.

The houses themselves were a different story. The entire place seemed to glow in the early light. The few rays of sun reflected off white walls and doors cunningly hidden under darker ledges, giving them a faint glow. This light didn't quite seem to reach the shadowed floor though, and here and there torches burned, casting circles of yellow light.

And there were people.

She didn't get a good look at them until they had come down a flight of stairs to one of the middle levels of the cavern, but when she did… Well, most of them had the same dark skin tone of the native Egyptians, but there were a fair number of other shades too and they were all dressed in a variety of styles. Renee spotted tribal dress, various styles of Muslim hijab for men and women and the more familiar western styles. In fact, apart from the clear groupings of families or friends, it was like none of them had much in common at all.

"First impressions?" Acenath asked.

Renée considered, looking around at the buildings carved into the rock face. "It looks like a Village."

It did. There were the buildings that were clearly homes, with sheets draped over windows to dry and little personal touches. There was an area further away where an open area was dug into the rock and was filled with what looked almost like market stalls… And at the far end, there was a tall red building with a gleaming top floor.

For a second, Renée thought it was the Hokage tower. It was the same squashed cylinder shape, and a bright red, but where the Hokage tower had a golden yellow wood stained roof panels, the panels on this building looked more like… well, sandstone probably. It was a little too far away to get a good look.

"Acenath, what's that building?"

"That's the Tower. It's where Mr Farouk and his advisors work. All the important decisions get made there. I'd show you, but it's off limits. Anyway, come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

Renée nodded, her eyes moving everywhere as she tried to take it all in. Everywhere she went there were people armed, openly, with various weapons. Not just guns – there were a handful of swords, a guy with a staff and almost everyone was carrying at least one knife. There was even two people standing by a corner with a longbow each, red threads and talismans tied at each end. She was increasingly convinced that this was Mr Farouk's version of a hidden village.

~-/-~

The person Acenath wanted her to meet was a girl about the same age she was, with the same dark eyes and hair. She was talking to a group of three or four children slightly younger than Renée when they found her. Renée vaguely recognised it as being a version of one of the Greek myths. Something about a woman who was incredibly proud and got to turned into a spider. They were just walking up as somewhere a bell was rung and the child got up and headed away. The girl watched them go with a faint smile before she turned to Acenath with a bright smile.

"Acenath!"

Acenath chuckled and the two girls hugged tightly. Renée shifted awkwardly when the hug went on for a good minute or two. It was a little silly, but she almost felt like she had been forgotten. Then Acenath turned to Renée with a bright grin, and Renée was suddenly struck by how happy she looked.

"Renée, this is my sister Maarika. I was hoping she could show us round… if she has time."

She turned to her sister, and Maarika laughed. "Of course, I'm free until the lunch. Not that I can show you everywhere but…" She smiled softly, and Renée felt her awkwardness dull a little. "What did you want to see in particular?"

"Um… what do people do?"

Maarika laughed. "Everything. This is a village – a small one, but still a village. Everything that normally happens in a village happens here." She tilted her head, that gentle smile and the amusement in her eyes taken any sting out of her words. "Maybe if you tell me why you're visiting…"

"Renée might move here. She's been offered a place but…"

They both turned to look at her and Renee didn't need her shields low to pick up the faint disapproval in their emotions. She frowned reflexively, feeling slightly defensive. "I like it at the Castle. There's Fatima, and Oom and…"

Maarika laid a gentle hand on her head and ruffled her hair. "It's ok, I remember struggling with the decision too. I didn't want to leave Acenath."

"Why did you?"

Maarika smiled. "I can grow here – in ways that I couldn't back in Cairo. Here, I'll show you the library and the other facilities. Maybe you'll be able to understand what I mean." She tilted her head to Acenath and the other girl shrugged. "Acenath will have to go to a meeting in an hour… that's in the library. So we'll start at the bottom and work our way up."

Renée nodded, her eyes going to the edge of the platform they were on and the shadowy area below them. "Down there?"

"Yeah. This way."

She led them inside an arch with a red stone at the top. Inside was a staircase lit by torches, that spiralled up and down. Now that Renee thought about it, they'd come out of a similar entrance when they first arrived.

"Red means outside only." Maarika explained, as they headed downstairs "If there's a red stone on the arch it won't let you into any of the inside bits. The entrances that lead to the inner areas have a green keystone."

At the bottom, she hesitated. "Stay close down here ok? It's a bit of a maze."

Remembering the last time someone had said that, Renee wrapped her fingers around Acenath's and smiled up at the two sisters. "Ok!"

~-/-~

It turned out that the lower levels were as maze like as Maarika had implied. There were no signs, only long identical corridors that wound around in a jumble, the corridors speckled with doors. Some of them were open, letting Renee glimpse stores of weapons, clothes, office supplies, and countless other things. Each room, Acenath explained was for one particular type of thing – that way if someone needed something, the storeroom keepers would know exactly where to go.

The highlight though was at the bottom, and it was the main reason the lower levels were designed to be as confusing as possible. Renée couldn't help but gape at the huge cavern they were at the entrance of.

"This place is the reason that the original builders built the village here. This and the maze of tunnels leading to it. If ever the village is attacked, or there is a crack down on our people in Cairo, there is space here for every single one of Mr Farouk's people."

"It's huge."

There really weren't words to describe it. The cave had a mixture of smooth and jagged walls, in that whimsical way that showed that no human had a part in shaping it. The only human touches in the place where a large pile of mats stacked haphazardly at one end, and light from various lanterns lighting up the room.

Renee tilted her head. There was something… strange about those lamps. She picked her way over to the nearest one, and her eyes widened. The light wasn't coming from a candle flame. It was coming from a small yellow crystal. She had thought that this was Earth – maybe not her Earth, but a close enough equivalent none the less.

But this, this looked like chakra… or magic. Earth didn't have either. And this close, with her attention on it, the crystal seemed to almost sing with chakra – chakra that was content and calm and not fighting to escape. It was very different to her own power.

"Maarika? Its… What…?"

Maarika was watching her with guarded eyes, the ease of the last few moments gone. "Renee, this is one of the reasons why Mr Farouk's work is so important. He doesn't just watch out for the Zabaleen. He watches out for those of us with gifts too. Those of us who can do… special things."

"Like you and your strength Renée."

Renée glanced over to Acenath. "My strength…?"

She nodded. "When we were doing chores that day, and earlier, when you learned things so quickly. How that first day you were mirroring everyone's expressions – sometimes slightly before they made them. It was like you knew what they were feeling and were reacting to it on some level."

Renée swallowed. "Is that why…?"

Acenath shook her head and kneeled down next to her. "No, you weren't chosen to come here because you can do things – I can do things too. You were invited because you are an incredible little girl and you deserve the chance to have the best that we can give you – both with your intelligence and with your gifts."

Renée nodded, eyes slightly wide as she tried to take everything in. It didn't take her long to decide that she would have to think this over later. But… if they could help her with her issues with chakra… And if she could visit the Castle and Fatima and the others…

Maybe coming to the Village wouldn't be so bad.

"We're running a bit late." Maarika said after a pause, the closed look gone. "Let's hurry through the residential areas and then I'll show you the library. It's huge. With books from everywhere."

"Everywhere?"

"Yep! I'll even show you where the fun ones are kept in the history section. One of my favourites is how Captain-"

"Don't go boring Renee with your hero worship." Acenath cut her sister off. "Being from America, she probably knows more about him than we do."

Renee giggled, not sure who they were talking about but certain that it would be interesting. And books? On history and presumably lots of other topics? That she could read to her heart's content?

That… That was something she needed to see.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23: Candra**

By OpalAlchemy

~-/-~

Ernie the desk demon nibbled on his claws agitatedly. Four days he'd been sitting on this bench in this hell spawn hallway. He was hungry, he was tired, and his butt ached from sitting four days straight on the dew stained gravel backed bench but he dared not close his eye.

The Boss had called him down to his office and Ernie would rather dip himself in flower scented perfume than make a bad first impression when he was finally called in. But it had been four days and he was so hungry. Mmm, cat roasted in spam juice sounded really good right now.

"Ernie 221Z. Ernie 221Z." The intercom called out. "The Boss will see you now."

Ernie sprung to his feet and howled at the shooting pain in his legs. Gritting his teeth Ernie wobbled his prickling legs to the Boss' door.

The Boss was in charge of the entire Binary Depths Division but Ernie had never met him before. He'd heard terrible rumors of the Boss' cruelty and horrible noseless face. Ernie shivered in anticipation and fear. Ernie couldn't have done something wrong. Ernie had had four days to think about it. No, the Boss wanted him for something else. Feelings of wonder sprang into Ernie's chest. What could the Boss possibly want with a mere desk demon?

The Boss' face was more horrible than Ernie could have possibly imagined. Ooze dribbled from the orifice that would have been his nose and his two beady eyes were lopsided. Ernie wished he were that handsome, then maybe Bernadette would have…

"Ernie, Ernie, Ernie." Boss said with a smack of his bulbous lips. "You're thinking about that cute demon in the cubicle next to you again, aren't you?"

Ernie's jaw dropped. "Ha-how did you know? Um, sir?"

Boss' beady eyes quickly ran over Ernie.

"I know everything. At least, everything that happens in Binary Depths. And I have to say Ernie, you've really caught my attention."

"M-me?! But, I'm not even the best desk worker down there. Bertus is."

Boss motioned for Ernie to sit on a toadstool as he started tapping on his Galaxy tablet. There was a mini volcano sitting on Boss' desk, spurting out real lava and sulfur and leaving little burn marks in the Elder wood desk.

"Bertus is too good at his job. Thirty reports an hour? Incredible! No way I'm ever letting him out of the cubicle. But you? You're average. Nothing inspiring or special about you. Which just makes you perfect for this promotion."

Ernie's eye widened. "Promotion?" He had never even dreamed of leaving his little cubicle in all his centuries. "But, you just said I'm nothing special. Why would…?"

The Boss grinned toothily. "Because of that! That self-doubt. That insecurity. Your cravenness. It's so deliciously vile. If I could bottle it up and put it in a vaccine I'd make a killing. Inoculate all those ego driven demons. Why, if even half the workforce were as pitiful as you the turnover rate in other departments would be nowhere near as high."

The desk-demon didn't quite understand what the Boss was saying, but it sure sounded good.

"So, what is this promotion?" The Boss turned around and showed Ernie the images on his tablet. On screen were seven humans ranging from toddlerhood to middle age. Some had white hair and some had brown or blonde hair. Ernie bit his lip in surprise when he recognized the redheaded demon-eyed girl from more than a year ago, Earth time.

"In Egypt there's a place just outside of Cairo where a number of…persons of interest have started to spend a significant amount of time. I want you to be in charge of monitoring these seven POI's. I want to know their every move, their every thought. And Ernie," Boss smiled his toothy grin at him, "Don't mess up."

~-/-~

Acenath and Maarika led Renée through winding passageways with so many turns Renée was unsure if she could find her way back if she were suddenly left alone. The residential area was spread over several floors, though most of the rooms were empty.

"One day the whole village will be filled with people." Maarika said. "But right now it is our job to prepare this place for the future."

Renée wanted to ask questions about just what these preparations were but Maarika and Acenath never gave her a chance. Acenath spoke more in the next twenty minutes than Renée had heard her speak the entire time she had been at the Castle. The two sisters chatted about who lived where and what they were up to. Renée didn't want to interrupt their catch up time. Occasionally they would remember they were supposed to be giving her a tour and show her a small kitchen or dining area.

"Truth is," Maarika told her, "there's not much to do in the Village that isn't training. There's the library and the school, the farm…The Shrine is beautiful, definitely a must see. But you only have permission to see the residential area and the library today. You need one of the adults to show you those areas and there's no one to show you those places today – what with the big meeting about to happen."

Renée nodded in understanding though she couldn't quite hide her disappointment.

"If you do decide to move here," Acenath quietly told her, "You won't have to share a room with quite so many people. You'll have some privacy."

Privacy was definitely something Renée could use.

Somehow, the three of them made their way back to the entrance hall they had first come through. A lot more people were going in and out of the many tunnels and doorways than an hour before when Oom, Acenath and Renée arrived. Acenath grimaced at the sight of the increased crowd.

"It's almost time."

Maarika knelt down beside Renée and pointed to one of the few passageways empty of people.

"That way's the library. There aren't any turns, so you won't get lost. I'm sorry we can't show you around more but if we don't leave now we'll be late. We'll come back to get you as soon as it's finished."

"Don't wander off." Acenath warned. "You could be lost for days. And some of the tunnels are flooded."

Renée nodded to show she understood then waved goodbye as the two sisters hurried further down into the mountain. Renée lightly reached out with her senses to determine the direction they were heading, though they went outside of her range after a few minutes.

'I wonder what the big meeting's about.'

It could have been about a million things. The police raid on the Castle, the plane crash, or perhaps something she hadn't yet made herself aware of. She itched to follow those two and eavesdrop though she didn't dare. Though the tour of the Village had been quite short it had taught her enough to be sure there were few hiding places within the tunnels. And everything was far too well-lit to provide a decent shadow to hide in.

Renée's fingers twitched at the thought of using her own shadow. But it was useless. Once upon a time in another world it would have been possible, but not here. At least, not yet.

Renée found the library as easily as Maarika said she would. The library consisted of several rooms the same blood red as the rest of the Village with shelves and shelves piled high with volumes and texts. Instead of tables there were small desks and cushions to lie on, the torch light giving the rooms a cozy and intimate atmosphere.

Books were common enough in Konoha, but the vast majority of texts were still printed or handwritten on scrolls. Seeing a library full of real books brought an unexpected pang of nostalgia. Walking to the nearest shelf she picked up a book on airplanes and flipped through the first few pages until her eyes found what she was looking for. 1960. Renée randomly picked another book. 1954.

It seemed the library was relatively up to date.

Renée took her time wandering from section to section despite having access to only a few shelves. (Growing taller was definitely on her to-do list.) Physics, astronomy, religion… Now that she knew this world was not as similar to her first as she previously thought Renée couldn't help but wonder if any of these texts documented those differences.

'Math and Science or History? Which would be easier to find documentation on those chakra-magic stones?'

The history section was disappointingly smaller than the hard sciences'. It had been so long since she last studied the history of…of a world similar to this one. Renée grabbed a tome that documented the two world wars though she put it back after a quick scan. Warfare and battle tactics were interesting enough but right now she needed a broader context of world history.

Noticing a row of colourful magazine like covers on an adjacent shelf, Renée couldn't help but let out a loud giggle. Flipping one open, Renée allowed herself to snicker at the red, white, and blue superhero happily punching Nazi's in the face. Was this war propaganda? Renée could vaguely recall a similar superhero from her first life, though he wasn't nearly as popular as Superman or Batman. Perhaps this was the same one?

Quiet footsteps interrupted her thoughts. A blonde woman with a beautiful face and white, pupiless eyes stood in the entrance to one of the deeper rooms. Her white dress was anachronistic when compared to the creams and browns most of the Zabaleen and Village people wore.

"It's always nice to see children enjoying themselves." The woman said in perfect English.

It was difficult to place her accent. All Renée could say for certain was that she'd never heard the like of it before. The woman's red lips were curved into a wry, tilted smile and her white eyes seemed to penetrate the small girl in a way she hadn't felt since her last mission with Neji. Renée quickly pushed the thought away and slammed together her mental shields. No one was getting into her mind without her say so.

"What interesting eyes you have." The stranger said as she knelt before Renée. "Like emeralds in a night sky."

Renée felt the woman's long fingers grab hold of her chin and push it up to make her look eye-to-eye. Renée had seen cold eyes a thousand times before, but even the most stoic Hyuuga held more warmth within their bearing than this woman. Painted red nails dug into her cheeks but the moment Renée was sure she would have to cry out in pain the woman let go. She brought her tiny hands up to feel her for broken skin but there were none. Only a few moon shaped indentations that would soon restore themselves to their proper shape.

"You can call me Candra, sweet pea. What's your name?"

"Renée."

"Renée. Such a pretty name. It means rebirth, you know. Tell me, Renée. Do you have a brother?"

Renée kept silent, refusing to answer. Who was this woman? How did she know about Remy?

"You do, don't you? Renée LeBeau. Rebirth of the beautiful. It fits you nicely. Except that Gambit has rubies in his eyes instead of emeralds. You share the same pretty hair too. So thick and red. Is your mutation like his too? Your gift?"

Renée's mouth went dry as her mind raced to come up with ways this Candra woman could possibly know the things she knew. She only barely held back a wince when Candra once again reached for her face. The touch was gentler than before. Tucking a loose strand of blood red hair behind her ear.

"You poor thing. This mutant stuff must be very new to you."

"What's a mutant?" The words came out before she could stop them. She knew what a mutation was. She knew what a mutant was. But it couldn't be what she was thinking. It was impossible. But hadn't the impossible already happened?

'If it's a dream then I have nothing to lose. But if it's real…' She had used that same reasoning a lifetime ago. But did it still apply here?

"A mutant is someone who carries the X-Gene. An evolved human of a higher class. Each with their own unique abilities. I wonder if I should kill you? You might become an annoyance if you ever join your brother and those X-Men."

There was no vocal transition between the explanation of mutants and the non-sequitur into Renée's death. No whisper of killing intent, bland or not. It was as though the filter between Candra's brain and mouth was non-existent. In an odd way it reminded her of the Akatsuki Sasori's even tone. She couldn't quite decide who pulled it off better.

"No matter." Candra continued. "You're still young. You may actually prove to be useful to me."

"Renée!" Turning her head away from Candra, Renée saw Acenath and Maarika hurrying towards them.

"I'm sorry Miss Candra. I hope she wasn't bothering you." Maarika said as Acenath steered Renée out of the library by both shoulders.

"Not at all. I was just leaving to meet your King."

"The Village doesn't have a king. Just us and Mr. Farouk." Renée could not hear the rest of the conversation but it must have been short as Candra soon passed her and Acenath in the hallway to the main entryway.

"That woman is a djinn in disguise." Maarika spat, angry at whatever Candra had said to her.

"Don't let that woman put you off from coming here, Renée. She doesn't live here. She's just a visitor who comes by far too often. If Mr. Farouk didn't owe her a favour he'd ban her from coming here at all!"

Acenath lightly ran her fingers over Renée's sore cheeks.

"Hurt?"

Renée shook her head no.

"Come," Acenath grasped her hand, "it's time for us to leave. Oom is waiting."

Even more people populated the main entryway than the last two times she'd been through. Renée spotted Candra's blonde hair standing against one of the more ornate doorways within the cavern. Next to her was a large man who could give the Akimichi a run for their money in sheer size and weight. He too, was dressed in white. A white western styled suit paired with a white fez and rings of gold and purple jewels. Renée idly wondered if the gems were magic like the lamps.

The walk back to the car was long and backbreaking in the afternoon heat. Renée didn't mind too much, despite her fatigue. Her mind was buzzing away with everything she had learned.

Gifts. Mutation. Mutant. X-Gene. X-Men. The pieces were starting to click in her brain.

She was in the X-Men universe. She'd seen the movies once or twice. And watched an episode of that old cartoon. But she didn't know that storyline nearly as well as Naruto's. And it had been so long…anything she could possibly remember was probably useless. Did the X-Men even have a plot? Perhaps if it just followed the movies? Renée hoped so, comic books had the most convoluted and retconned plots ever.

And what had Candra called Remy? "That Gambit"? The image of a Cajun man in pink armor with his arms wrapped around a woman with a skunk stripe running down the middle of her permed hair filled Renée's mind. Rogue. Rogue was in the movie. But was Remy? Renée didn't think so. Perhaps the cartoon? Was Gambit his superhero name? It was a logical conclusion, but Renée couldn't know for sure.

~-/-~

"Is she still asleep?"

"Yeah."

Renée slowly blinked her eyes open. She was laid across the backseat, face pressed into the back. The constant vibrations and occasional bump told her the car was still running. When had she fallen asleep?

She tried to keep herself awake but the attempt proved to be futile. She was tired. Though she couldn't really explain why. Perhaps she'd been neglecting her stamina training? Or perhaps the limits of her body were finally getting to her?

"—the meeting. Cayvan said the military—"

Oom's and Acenath's conversation went in and out with Renée's consciousness. In parts and out of context. But what Renée did hear in the car ride back to the Castle she would remember the next day.

Cairo's police were patrolling the borders of Mokkatam. None of the Zaballeen could go in or out, not even for trade or the hospital.


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24: You should've seen this one coming**

By Dinner

~/~

The rules of suspense are that you do know, and you just don't know when. In the Hitchcock rules of suspense, you are supposed to know that there is a bomb on the bus that might blow up, and then it becomes very tense - but if you don't know that there's a bomb and it just blows up, then it's just a surprise.

~Gus van Sant

~/~

In a small street, just two turns away from the Castle Renée called home, two men were walking. They were dressed in their uniform black pants and white dress-shirts. On the left walked the younger of the two, his uniform tightly hugging his body. In this heat you could see the wet stain down his back from sweat. On his left shoulder there was a black piece of cloth neatly folded, and sewn on his dress-shirt there was one Silver Star. It was the star of a Lieutenant.

On the right the elder walked; unlike the younger man, he had been promoted a few times in his career. His body was no longer in its physical peak and he had developed some fat around his middle. He wore the same uniform. Only, while the younger of the two was a Lieutenant, he was a Captain and on the piece of cloth on his arm was not one or two stars, but a set of three. Normally the Captain wouldn't have had to patrol the streets, but for the sake of morale, he'd scheduled a day to walk with this platoon as they kept his part of Cairo safe.

The two were part of a squad tasked with keeping the Zabaleen in check. After the plane crash of last week tension had almost been palpable. Even just walking through Mokattam Village made the pair of policemen nervous.

But with their weapons - a wooden stick, a gun on their right and a sabre on their left - they at least felt safe. After all, who'd dared to attack someone so heavily armed? The police were respected still, or if not respected at least feared.

"Sir… They are scared of us." Lieutenant Al'Jahar commented as they walked past three young girls.

It pained Waïl to admit that, yes, even children seemed to be aware of what the weapons on their belts could inflict. In the last two days alone he had gotten more reports on his desk of violent skirmishes. He'd suspended two of his First Lieutenants for acting outside the mission parameters as set by him personally, but he was unsure how much good it would do.

"I'd rather have them scared and peaceful than the other way 'round." As a Captain he had a district under him. It was just his luck he had been stationed in Mokattam Village during this crisis. And it was just his luck that the Mayor and Major General were pressuring him into heavy handed tactics to keep his part of Cairo safe and quiet.

The Lieutenant shook his head. "I did not join the police to suppress my people."

Waïl stopped the boy, he didn't have the time for such nonsense, but then again, this was exactly why he had decided to walk the streets for a day. "No one likes the way things have turned out lately, but there is a difference between suppressing and making sure nothing untoward happens."

The Lieutenant ground his teeth but kept his mouth shut. They walked their round and met up with the six others of this patrol group at the meeting point. They were the last ones to arrive.

"Anything of note?" Waïl asked. With his right hand he stroked his moustache twice. It was a habit he'd gotten from his father, whom had gotten it passed down from his father. The Abouali men were famous for their thick moustaches.

"There was a group of teenagers that were becoming… loud." First Lieutenant Aboul-Nour started. The man was about the same age as Waïl, which meant he should've retired years ago. But he knew the man well, he'd joined the force a few years later than himself. And unlike his solid body and posture, his voice was unusually soft. "But with a warning, Lieutenant Akharraz and I solved the situation without it escalating."

The four others told him nothing special had happened. "Good. Let's do another quick round, and call it a day."

~/~

Renée and Fatima were sitting on the steps of the Castle's front door. Fatima had asked all about the Village and what it had been like. Renée had answered factually. Walls were red, pretty lights, it was big, Maarika seemed nice, and the library was impressive…

But while talking with Fatima was nice and all, in her head Renée was thinking about other things. Candra had been eerie. Like the old aunt you'd never quite get a read on, will she be nice or angry, sweet or cruel? She hadn't been able to read her, at all. And the things she had said, so flippant, as if the consequences had no meaning to her.

Renée cursed as Lima stepped on her toe.

"Oh! Sorry, Renée." The girl said running into the Castle, she was inside for only a few seconds before she ran back out. In her hand something black was dangling as she hurried out of the street.

"What do you think she's up to?"

Fatima shrugged. "I don't' know."

"Want to find out?" Renée stood up stretching out her hand for Fatima to take hold.

Taking her hand and pulling herself upright Fatima nodded. "Sure." They ran, or in Fatima's case limped at a quick pace, around the corner and saw Lima doing the same. They followed her for what must have been two minutes before they caught up.

Lima had stopped once she had found Menefer, Neneth, and Ubaid. The three bigger girls circled around Lima. It didn't look nice, not at all. With the slightest lowering of her empathic shields to prevent being overwhelmed, she could also feel something coming from them. She narrowed her eyes. Something was not right.

It was Menefer who noticed Renée and Fatima. "What are you two doing here?" she asked, her tone snappier than usual.

Fatima seemed frozen to the spot, but Renée didn't feel intimidated by the bigger girls' antics. Though she was easily two heads smaller than Menefer, Renée gave the girl the look. The look that said, you don't want to mess with me. It was the look Ino had perfected a long time ago. "What are you doing here?"

Nenet butted in, almost physically stepping to the forefront. "We're just having some fun, aren't we Lima?"

Lima nodded, a big smile on her face. "We're going to play a game."

Renée eyed the younger girl, she was but four years old - only one year younger than she was supposed to be. The gap between her and Lima was much greater than that though, and the girl was so naïve. The feeling from the bigger girls was not playful at all. "Shouldn't someone from the Al Mi'raj be here too then?"

The question was aimed at Lima, but the older girls knew it was actually meant for them.

"Neneth said we could do this without them, it's ok because we're together."

Fatima shuffled uneasily beside her. "We should ask one of the grownups to come too, Oom was very specific."

"Oh don't be such a goody two shoes." Menefer said, her words cutting into Fatima and making her almost flinch back.

"Well, we could always ask Oom what she thinks about all of this." Renée motioned at the three girls and Lima. "I'm sure no-one will get in trouble, right?"

While Menefer and Neneth seemed unsure, Ubaid huffed, actually huffed! "Yeah sure, go run to Oom. You're such a bore. Come Lima, let's get rid of these two." Ubaid turned and grabbed Menefer's hand and ran. The other two girls followed.

"Bye Renée, Fatima." Lima cheered, running after the girls.

Renée turned to Fatima. She looked ready to run after them, if only to see where they were going and what they were going to do. But right now this part of Cairo wasn't safe… They had been assigned guards for a reason. Last time they had been a big group and that hadn't protected them from the police, at all.

"Fatima, you go to the Castle and warn a grown up. I'll go after them."

Fatima looked unsure. "Maybe we should both go to the Castle, it isn't safe…"

"Don't worry." Renée said shaking her head. "I can kick ass, remember?"

That seemed to do the trick, Fatima turned with a nod and started running to the Castle. Renée yelled after her. "Also, tell Oom about this."

Fatima raised her arm and gave her a thumb up in confirmation.

Turning around Renée could hear the girls' laughter, she didn't need her empathic sensory skills to track them down. She raced after them, quickly catching up. And when she did she knew the game they were going to play. The thing that Lima had gotten from the Castle was a pebble shooter.

The streets were not empty at this time of day, here and there a lone person or couple walked, but if there were ten people in sight, it would have been many. Yet it wasn't the amount of people she worried about. But the kind of people.

Ten maybe fifteen meter in front of her and the girls walked two police officers. Renée with a strength and speed that belied her age pulled the pebble shooter out of Lima's hand. "Are you four crazy? Do you want to get killed?" She yelled at them.

"Hey, give that back, that's mine!" Lima tried to pry the makeshift weapon out of her hands, but her fingers couldn't pry Renée's off the thing.

"Lima, stop." Renée shoved the girl aside. "Listen to me, if you shoot the police with pebbles you'll get in trouble, big trouble." Having said her piece she looked towards the three girls. "And you three! How could you even think of something like this-. This-. This stupid."

Neneth laughed it away. "We're just trying to have some fun."

"Yeah, Renée don't act like that, we weren't actually going to let her shoot them." Ubaid said, her tone seemed off. Slowly her hands travelled into her pockets. "Dirty coppers deserve a bullet not a pebble." And from her pants' pocket Ubaid retrieved a firearm. A pistol. The kind they trained with at the range.

And then it all happened so fast. Ubaid raised the thing with trained ease and mumbled, "This is for my brother." Her left hand supporting her right and with aim as true as a hawk catching a mouse - fired.

All Renée managed to do was pull Lima back behind her.

One of the policemen screamed, the white dress shirt changing colors like a chameleon, slowly from white to red.

The man's partner had turned around and quickly drawn his gun in retaliation. It was an older man, heavy build and thick moustache. And as quick as Ubaid had been, the man was twice as fast. Luckily his aim was off and the bullet, instead of going through Ubaid, went into the ground. Ubaid was about to shoot the man in return but Menefer and Neneth had started to run, so so did she.

They had barely started running out from the street they had come in earlier when Fatima showed up trailing behind Sokolov and Oom. They'd probably heard the gunshot, and now their faces were tight in a mix of worry and anger. Another shot was fired, this time Ubaid fell to the grown letting go of the pistol and grabbing her leg with both her hands, curling up as her friends dived for cover.

Renée grabbed Lima's wrist and yanked her along as she darted away. The younger girl stumbled and overstepped a few times but before another shot was fired they had turned the corner and were out of sight. Renée dropped her hand and tried to get her breathing under control. Lima, usually bubbly and full of energy just stood there trembling.

Was she in shock? Of course she was. "Lima, listen carefully. Go to the Castle. Hide. Lock the doors and don't let anyone you don't know in. Can you do that?"

Lima nodded but remained standing where she was. Renée slapped the girl on the cheek. "Can you do that?"

The slap seemed to have knocked her back into this world. She blinked up at her before nodding slowly. "Back to the Castle… yes."

"And lock the door."

Lima nodded, sharper this time, before she turned around and ran.

Which left Renée with space to move.

Looking back into the street, she could see Oom and Sokolov trying to diffuse the situation. Oom looked all kinds of fierce while she stood over Ubaid, and Sokolov had his arm outstretched as if to tell the greying cop to hold still. Fatima must've run away, she couldn't see her. But she could see Menefer and Neneth, they had hidden themselves behind a particularly large heap of garbage bags.

Renée slowly walked back into the street. The cop that had been shot by Ubaid was lying on the ground and it looked like he couldn't reach the bullet wound himself to stop the bleeding and with his gun raised his partner wasn't of much use to him. To show she meant no harm Renée raised both her hands, palms forward to show they were empty, and walked to the fallen policeman.

Sokolov was talking loudly over the cries of pain Ubaid let out.

Deciding she'd come close enough the elder cop trained his gun on her, the 'Don't do anything foolish' was very clear.

Renée knelt down beside the bleeding man. She didn't have anything that could actually alleviate the pain he was in, or help him other than pressurizing the wound, but a long life of battle wounds had taught her something. She could slow the bleeding while they waited for the medics to show up. It was usually enough for first aid.

"I'm going to help you." Renée helped rip open the dress shirt so the wound was visible. The man had been shot in his shoulder, but clearly the bullet was still inside as there was no exit wound. The man was lucky, from the way the bullet had entered it had missed any vital organs, and by hearing the man's breathing Renée could tell that it had missed his lungs too.

While Renée was helping the cop, asking his name and pressurizing the wound with her jacket, other policemen started to come too, some of them breathing heavily, having run great lengths to come to their comrades' aid.

Glancing up she spotted that Oom was doing the same thing for Ubaid as she was doing for the cop: Yusuf. Then her hands slipped and she focused back on the wound. Stopping the bleeding was vital if the man wanted to live.

Renée was shoved aside by one of the policemen that had decided her help was no longer needed. There was a murmur of a thank you hidden between the expletives the newly arrived cop rattled off.

The elder policeman must have contacted his base, for by the time Renée had walked over to Ubaid to help Oom medical aid had arrived.

Renée saw the ambulance personnel making quick work of the wound. There were two of them, and while Renée thought it odd that they didn't split up to help both people shot, she could understand it. Two people working on one person was quicker.

Oom and Ubaid were talking, with Ubaid stopping every other words to cry or shriek in pain and Oom trying to calm her down.

One of the two paramedics went back into the ambulance and got out a wheeled yellow stretcher. With the help of some of the cops they got Yusuf on it and put him in the Ambulance.

Meanwhile more of the Al-Mi'raj had started showing up and the street had started to look like something out of a western movie. The street was divided in two parts: on the left the police, on the right the Al-Mi'raj. Renée thought it was all a bit much… It wasn't like the cops so far hadn't shown proper restraint considering the circumstances.

After all, Ubaid had started shooting.

Realization kicked in when she mulled that thought over. Ubaid had shot someone. That was… it didn't fit with her image of the girl. Sure she could be a hothead. Sure she could be selfish and all kinds of nasty when she felt like it. Actually harming someone though?

'This is for my brother.' she had mumbled… Ubaid had mentioned her brother before, wasn't he in prison? Renée found herself staring at Ubaid and wondering how she had not seen or felt that the girl was this... messed up. You didn't just shoot someone out of nowhere like that.

Right now the girl didn't look the part of a child soldier, she looked like a child in pain. The image of this and the truth about this whole situation didn't match up.

Renée took off her belt. "Oom, we can use this. As a- tourniquet!" She wasn't sure of the word, but Oom understood what she meant. She took it and grimly tied it around the girl's leg.

Yusuf, lying on a cart was pushed into the ambulance. One of the cops joined him, stepping into the back. They closed the doors and were about to step in and ride away when Renée realised what was happening.

She stepped forward angrily, this was wrong! "Wait, you can't leave, Ubaid is wounded too! She was shot!"

It was Oom who pulled her back, her face serious. "They won't take her. Mokattam is on lockdown."

Renée felt fury build up, sure, Ubaid did something stupid, illegal and wrong, but she was a child, and wounded. There were laws about this, weren't there? Human rights?

"This. Is. Wrong."

Renée turned to stare at the elder policeman. She spit on the ground. "Politics has no place in this. Call them back."

The lines on his face didn't move. He didn't even look at her, he was focused on Sokolov. The man had gotten his own rifle off its sling and into his hands.

"SHE NEEDS HELP TOO!"

Renée's hands balled into fists and her arms trembled, but the old man ignored her. How could he just ignore her? This was unfair.

By now there were at least ten cops and hearing the sirens in the distant, more were on their way. Behind her were about a dozen Al-Mi'raj.

This was going to end in a bloodbath.

The man with the moustache barked something to a cop behind him and pointed at Ubaid. And then four policemen started moving, one of them taking out his handcuffs.

Oom held Ubaid's hand, but looked the other way as the cops untangled their hands and cuffed Ubaid.

She was shot, she was as dangerous as a declawed kitten right now.

Renée wanted to do something, but Ubaid had shot a cop, of course they were going to arrest her. They made her stand up, even though she was wailing in pain and the wound was still pouring out blood like an open faucet. Even though the tourniquet had helped and she wouldn't bleed to death any time soon, Ubaid was a frail girl… She couldn't lose too much blood.

The sirens got closer and within seconds Ubaid was pushed into a police car. Renée couldn't do a thing for her. Oom, who'd been sitting on the dusty road stood up and took Renée's hand in her own.

"There is nothing we can do, child. Come."

Renée felt her nails digging into Ooms' flesh as she glared. A lifetime ago she could've done something. But once again, the decisions were made for her.

She knew there was something she could do. She could give in into that rage that was still building up inside- Renée blinked, her shields weren't up. It took a second, maybe two to do so, but the rage that had built up lessened as her shields fortified.

She'd felt Ooms' rage.

The tears on her face, tears of anger. For Oom to act so calm while feeling such things... the woman was truly impressive.

Being blocked off from the feelings of those closest to her gave her room to breathe. Her hands grip on Ooms' hand lessened, but she could see the imprints of her nails left behind.

"What do you think is going to happen, back there?"

The Al-Mi'raj were heavily armed, but so were the police, and so far neither seemed willing to back down. Even though Sokolov had allowed the police to take Ubaid.

"Fear not. Sokolov is one of the best." Oom quickened her pace.

Renée paused, her eyes widening. "Wait, Menefer and Neneth, they're still there! They hid behind the trash!"

Oom cursed under her breath, quite colorfully but turned right back around.


End file.
